Someone needs to put a damn gag on that grocery clerk in the labcoat. During the touchy diplomatic cupcake relations, Superman finally convinces the aliens not to DESTROY US, and this fucker is nagging them for a few dollars. Let's just be happy we're not space dust, Dr. Safeway.
And hey, green interstellar council assholes, maybe Earth is a primitive planet, but at least we've devoloped haircut technology.
Motherfucker, if those aliens want to shoot someone for not doing anything good, my cousin Andre don't do a GOD damn thing. Sitting on his momma's sofa, this turkey thinks he's on his way to getting a job when he writes down the number for the invention hotline... those aliens need to point their death beam at that fool.
Aliens wanted to kill us because we haven't accomplished anything... I call bullshit on this one. I've killed a lot of people. Not really a lot... more like four or five, and I guess they were dogs, not people. Stuffed dogs. But I won those fights. My fish point is this: I did it because I was evil, not because they had short resumes. And I wouldn't have stopped in the middle of the murder because my victims made great cupcakes. I'm not going to pull the death ray out of some old lady's mouth because Superman flies up and says, "Wait! Don't kill her! She has so much to offer! Why just look at this delightful centerpiece and floral arrangement!" Oh, Superman. You're right! This dinette set proves she deserves to survive! Glub. Damn aliens. I'd hate to be the one that has to go back to its planet's military leaders and tell them to call off the attack because their target is delicious. "Our plans have changed, my people! Everyone turn off their space tanks; the Earth has paid us off with these 12 boxes of cup cakes!"