“After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager.”

“One look at a banana and you can tell it came from outer space.”

“Really?" Olivia managed. It's called conversation, she reminded herself, like a visitor from a foreign planet. Answer one question, ask another. "Where do you live?”

“Lord, I never seen blue hair on a black woman before or since. Leroy say you look like a cracker from outer space.”

“I'm from Iowa, I only work in outer space”

“It was The Gospel From Outer Space, by Kilgore Trout. It was about a visitor from outer space...[who] made a serious study of Christianity, to learn, if he could, why Christians found it so easy to be cruel. He concluded that at least part of the trouble was slipshod storytelling in the New Testament. He supposed that the intent of the Gospels was to teach people, among other things, to be merciful, even to the lowest of the low. But the Gospels actually taught this: Before you kill somebody, make absolutely sure he isn't well connected. So it goes. The flaw in the Christ stories, said the visitor from outer space, was that Christ, who didn't look like much, was actually the Son of the Most Powerful Being in the Universe. Readers understood that, so, when they came to the crucifixion, they naturally thought...: "Oh, boy - they sure picked the wrong guy to lynch that time!" And that thought had a brother: "There are right people to lynch." Who? People not well connected. So it goes.”