Hi. My name is Roman, and I'm the president of PWUTRASOUPANHCCBSHGAPOS ("People Who Used To Report All Sorts Of Inexplicable Phenomena And Now Have Cellphone Cameras But Still Haven't Gotten A Photo Of Shit"). Our group has gotten a lot of attention recently, and not in a positive light. If the angry mob would shut up for a second, I'd like to explain our side of the story.

Yes, it's true: in my lifetime I've seen some unnatural sights. In my lifetime, I've seen sixteen ghosts, eight UFOs, three werewolves, nine Yetis, and Jesus' face on four different types of toast (rye, whole wheat, challah, and raisin). Every one of these sightings has been publicized. "The Flying Cigars of Northern Vancouver" was actually made into a miniseries, "Space Alien Bar Mitzvah" was a special on Bravo TV, and #ChallahBreadJesus became a trending tweet. In my prime, I was averaging fourteen unexplained sightings a week, and that was before I started drinking Hpnotiq.

"Surely you've had a cellphone for the last ten or twelve years," you say. "So why haven't you gotten a photo of anything strange yet?" You roll your eyes and act like this odd lapse is conclusive proof that nothing paranormal exists, but I'm here to tell you that unlike the midget clown that hovered over me for most of 1972, there's a rational explanation for this.

First, you're probably aware of the biggest problem. A yeti runs out of the woods, I grab for my camera, and before I've even typed in half my password it's broken into my Fiero and then run off. It just isn't quick enough! My fingers shake and I'm typing, like, "1, 2, 3 -- " and before I see all the little app widgets he's gone back into the abandoned coal mine again.

"Roman," you say, "according to your eyewitness reports, every UFO you've ever seen either danced or hovered or hung in the air. Surely that would give you time to type in your passcode."

Well, in a perfect world, yes. But -- call me stupid -- I always make some kind of mistake. I actually did get video of Amelia Earhart's ghost eating nopales tacos at Machu Picchu, but just out of habit I turned my phone sideways to film it. It was crisp and perfect but I had to delete it. I knew that for every person who saw it and said "WOW! That's absolutely AMAZING!!!" I'd get a hundred going, "DON'T FILM IN PORTRAIT MODE, ASSHOLE!"

Sometimes I almost think there's an unnatural conspiracy to stop me from photographing this paranormal stuff. Like one afternoon a chupacabra ran by my window and I made a mad dash for my phone but at that very second it rang. I'm like "CALL BACK! I GOTTA GET A PHOTO!" and it's like, "ANSWER THIS CALL! FUCK THAT THING!"

Anyway, don't stop believing. Rest assured one day soon -- oh, shit. There's a crop circle in my back yard. Yes, a real crop circle, in my very own backyard. It's amazing, like an incredibly intricate fractal crossed with some fourth-dimensional M. C. Escher shit. Okay, I got it: type in password, don't use portrait mode, turn off flash --

Shit. Grass grows like fuck around here.