The very thought boggles our little minds. Could there be a thriving concert scene dispersed among the stars? Could one find, say, a five-legged Sting on Rigel IV? Did the forces of evolution give rise to intelligent, guitar-shaped beings on Alpha Prime? Are ticket prices cheaper “out there” than they are “down here?”

And what of the entire galactic concert infrastructure? Are there intergalactic promoters booking extraterrestrial versions of Sarah McLachlan and Reverend Horton Heat into cosmic nightclubs and celestial arenas? Are there alien versions of Barenaked Ladies, Aerosmith and They Might Be Giants beaming from star system to star system? And what of their audiences? Do they listen to music with their noses? Do they applaud with their feet? And if so, what extremities do they use to hold up their Bic lighters as they cheer for encores?

Then there are those who claim that we are the only concert-based life forms in the universe. While they do not rule out the possibility of alien civilizations, they contend that our little blue marble is the only world capable of supporting concert life on a planetary scale. Furthermore, they claim, that if aliens really do exist, that they are probably monitoring our transmissions in hopes of hearing the latest Red Hot Chili Peppers tune, or perhaps a collection of golden oldies by Bo Diddley or Jerry Lee Lewis. If so, Casey Kasem must seem like a god to them.

And then there are those who believe that the aliens are already here, that music-loving E.T.’s have been on our planet since 1947 when their spacecraft crashed just outside Rosewell, New Mexico, while en route to seeing Louis Prima in Vegas. Furthermore, they contend that these aliens still walk among us, and that they can be spotted at shows by Slipknot and Motorhead. Preposterous? Maybe so, but it would explain a few things.

Is there an intergalactic concert industry? Are there warp-driven tour buses carrying the cosmic equivalent of Yanni or Prince to audiences made up of jelly fish-like beings plopped into seats like so many quivering bowls of pudding melting under the hot Sagittarius skies? Or are we truly alone? Could it be that this one insignificant speck of dust in all of creation is the only point of light in the entire universe capable of sustaining concert life as we know it? Sorry, but we don’t have that answer. But we’re working on it.

In fact, we do know someone who could clear up this entire E.T. thing. Someone who knows every thing there is to know about living on another planet. However, we’ve been told that Michael Jackson is a tad too busy to return our phone calls.