John was on the, well, John, when the aliens decided to attack and decimate all humanity. Understandably, this left John in an awkward position. He stretched his neck to peer out the window and saw massive flying disks, tractor beams picking up cows, and various other alien clichés. It was a verifiable war of the worlds out there, an aggressive encounter of the third kind. And it was time for Independence Day. John, having lived in Georgia most of his life, knew the only solution was to grab his shotgun and start shooting things. The rest is definitely not history.