Coal wants to be underground. It does not want to come out. We know this because once it is disturbed it is everywhere making a mess. Like of this German miner, awaiting his turn in the communal showers, in Gelsenkirchen, in 1958.

A passing space alien looks at this, and wonders, “they think this is a good idea?”

“They also eat mayonnaise,” says another alien.

“The horror,” blanches the first, “the horror.”

“Let us go instead to a world where they do not turn themselves into moles to burn off their atmosphere, then sit in that seppuku, eating slimy grease from big-ass glass jars,” suggests the second.

“Yes,” replies the first, “what you said.”