地球写给人类的信优秀英语作文

　　篇一、地球写给人类的'信英语

　　We Need Protecting!

地球写给人类的信优秀英语作文

　　We are natural resources that people have wasted all through our history. We have been killed for our fur and feathers, for food, for sport, and simply because we were in the way. Thousands of kinds of my rades have disappeared from the earth forever.

　　Hundreds more are on the danger list today. About 170 kinds in the United States aloneare considered in danger. Why should people care us more? Because humans need us,Yes!, and because once we are gone, there will never be any more.We are more than just beautiful or interesting. We are more than just a source of food. Every animal like me has its place in the balance of nature. Destroying one kind of my rades can create many problems.

　　For example, when farmers killed large numbers of hawks, the farmers' stores of corn and grain were destroyed by rats and mice. Why? Because hawks eat rats and mice, with no hawks to keep down their numbers, the rats and mice multiplied quickly.

　　Luckily, some kind people are working to help save us. Some groups raise money to let people know about the problem. And they try to get the governments to pass laws protecting animals in danger.

　　Quite a few countries have passed laws,which forbid the killing of any rades of us or planton the danger list. Slowly, the number of somemy rades in danger is growing. In the end,I appeal to the human beings waking up and devoting to protecting us from now on!Because we are inlackable in the world.

　　篇二、地球写给人类的信英语

　　First off, allow us to apologize for the abductions.

　　Although it seemed like a good idea at the time, we recognize that too often you did not find the experience as satisfying as we did. We genuinely regret the way things got out of hand.

　　It started out as just something to do, an occasional way to blow off steam after a long day of observation. We tried not to break anybody, and we always put you back where we found you. Frankly you aren't all that interesting, and we might soon have grown tired of the whole thing.

　　But we got such a kick out of your cute eyewitness accounts, what with the stories of our big dark eyes and little arms and all. You made us feel special, even if your tales were complete crap. The books, the movies, the T-shirts—we were like celebrities. And some of you took it all so seriously, with your conspiracy theories and everything. It was really quite a hoot.

　　Then this guy Whitley Strieber came along, and he sort of took the joy out of it, you know? What a killjoy shitbag he is. Today we abduct only nerdy guys who live alone in Airstream trailers, primarily because they're nerds and, truth be told, we just like to mess with their heads.

　　Many of you have written asking about crop circles, so let's set the record straight.

　　It ain't us. Really, it's not. Think about it. You people have trouble reaching your own moon, and even you have cell phones, satellite TV, and high-speed DSL.

　　We sail between stars at speeds you believe impossible—you think we have to knock down veggies in order to communicate?

　　And why do you always assume we land in rural areas? Please. On a planet with New York, Rio de Janeiro, Paris, and Amsterdam, you figure we'd choose to hang out in Roswell, New Mexico? Have any of you actually been there? (By the way, Area 51 is a real hole. In the unlikely event we're ever in the neighborhood again, we're staying someplace else for sure.)

　　We would be remiss if we failed to mention the anal probing. For the longest time, we swear we thought those were data ports. We meant no harm, and hope that you will, like us, try to forget this unfortunate chapter in our history. In retrospect it was simply a bad idea.

　　Now we don't want to be seen as whiners, but there are a few things we wish to discuss.

　　For one thing, we are troubled by the way we have been portrayed in the media. We represent an array of life whose richness and sheer scope would astound you. Yet for the most part, on this planet we are typecast as either hairless dweebs with foreheads like watermelons, or else giant insects who want to eat you.

　　No offense, but this is especially hard to take from a backwater planet most beings have never heard of. (In fairness, this is not entirely true. Earth is generally known for one thing: cottage cheese. Seriously, nobody else ever thought of that. Not even the Lobo?lata, who are themselves dairy products.)

　　The very word “alien” is plagued by negative associations. According to our latest focus groups, the term conjures up images of 1) slimy, parasitic creatures who spring onto the faces of unsuspecting beings in order to plant their young inside, or 2) people picking cabbages. (Apologies to the Bulibians: slimy, parasitic creatures who actually do spring onto the faces of unsuspecting beings in order to plant their young inside.)

　　We've discussed this among ourselves, and we no longer wish to be called aliens. Henceforth, we prefer to be called “Chuck Norris?.” Please do not shorten, hyphenate, or alter this in any way. The plural form is the same, as in, “Hey, there goes a Chuck Norris?. Wait, there goes another one."

　　Finally, some advice.

　　Look, from where we sit, you're all the same. We appreciate that human beings come in slightly different models and colors, and to you these nearly imperceptible differences seem to cause no end of trouble. But honestly, we're astounded that you can even tell yourselves apart. In blind taste tests, in fact, the average Chuck Norris? cannot detect any difference whatsoever. So chill, people of Earth, and try to get along.

　　While you're in a reflective mood, take a closer look at what you're doing to your planet. You are ruining it: depleting your natural resources, polluting your air, sickening your oceans, and destroying unique species forever. This is just plain wrong, not to mention completely irrational. Everyone knows that the logical thing is to find somebody else's planet and ruin that. Noobs. How can you possibly expect to survive in the coming interstellar economy?

　　By the way, we've elected you to come up with the new shared unit of galactic currency. Just pick something small and ubiquitous, something of nominal value that you won't miss much. It's your call, but we suggest hamsters.

　　In closing, much of what you do befuddles us. Many of your core concepts—such as guilt, selflessness, and David Hasselhoff—simply have no counterparts in non-Terran cultures. You're what galactic sociologists call “a bunch of strange ducks."

　　Yet for reasons not entirely clear, we have developed a certain affection for you. We'd just as soon keep you around, if only for the entertainment value.

　　We're going away for a bit now, and when we return, we expect to find that you have made significant progress toward sitting at the adults’ table. This will, of course, mean fewer senseless military conflicts, less reality television, and no more Sudoku.

　　Don't make us come down there.

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