But above satelites is stars, like holes in black velvet painting, uncold fusion so bright to give star tan. They live in techno freedom utopia of no dayjob. Sleep all day, party rave all night. Wear only long white robe for total freedom utopia of genitals. Aliens have billions and billions of channels.
Aliens make potato chips with healthy plastic fat.
Aliens make sporting equipment from compressed dung. Aliens no sun glasses, giant black eyes already look like 50s spy sun glasses. Aliens have no tinny walkman, they glue speakers direct on giant bald egg heads. Each alien has own logo. Aliens hear old tunage, puke out all kidneys from ear-pain.