I spend at least three nights a week on the undulating surface of the Science Fiction Museum, staring into the hideous, fractured blackness over my head. Whenever I see a plane, satellite, or flaming gull, I pick up my bullhorn and do my civic duty. The people of Seattle will thank me someday, when they are blessed with enough time to close their laptops before the big one hits.
All those sincere letters to NASA are finally paying off, and someone is taking me seriously at last:
**
The document is in its early draft stages at the moment, and a leaked copy that I recently torrented was just a string of panicked expletives, followed by a poorly-doodled depiction of a mushroom cloud.
Action plan for killer asteroids [BBC]