Oumuamua a Camouflaged Alien Craft

Being an ant is a lot like having a tattoo, it’s a permanent fashion statement, hear me out. So, when you die, all your molecules rearrange and all your energy, your life force, redirects and you become, like whatever. You could be a bit of gneiss, thinking and believing what gneiss thinks and feels, you could be a vesper, a butterfly, a horned toad, a tire iron, a cornflake, a transient notion, or whatever. An ant is as likely a choice as any. Antennae, always a stylish touch, a set of wicked curved mandibles, massive head, hairy thorax, sugar filled abdomen, six independent legs, a strength ten or twenty times your size, just exactly like a tattoo.
Your appearance is permanent, as long as you’re an ant. Same way your tattoo is permanent, long as you are. You cut a fine suave inimical style, as an ant. Same as your tattoo is suave, definitive. And, as an ant, same as a tattoo, it’s all superficial, yet germane, you are, despite a dangerous, miniature appearance, community minded to a fine degree, self sacrificing, diligent, hard working, as capable of working in concert with your fellows or of striking out bravely on your own, on the scout. What tattoo doesn’t maintain its position to the most finely detailed line. The colors may fade… What tattoo doesn’t hold its own proudly on a bicep, shin or hip. What tattoo doesn’t belong to an inclusive club. What tattoo isn’t a tattoo. What ant won’t forage far afield for the queen yet blend humbly back into the anonymity of the colony. What tattooed pattern can’t be obscured by attire.
A tattoo is just like an ant. It means something.
It gets under your skin. The ink, that’s where it goes, subcutaneous. The tattoo needle punctures the upper layer. It stays there, the ink, not the needle. Skin is somewhat translucent, the ink shows through. And then, after the swelling and redness goes down, what’s left is a fashion statement. A permanent temporary. An ant, the ant that has chosen to be an ant after all its previous molecules and energies have concerted their energies into becoming the ant it now is, has emerged from its egg sac as a complete, comprehensive fashionable ant. Only a fool would deny the stylistic pinnacle of unique fashion that is an ant. Only a fool would denigrate a tattoo. An ant has a set of compound eyes that are geometrically immaculate. Its antenna strive and waggle with a dancers panache. A tattoo can and should jiggle. Ants has a strut. Six legged, but a six limbed strut without peer. Tattoos give one a signature strut.
There are important correlations between ants, tattoos and Oumuamua that cannot be voiced with impunity. We all tread with little care of the dangers that pass close by.