I am formally obliged by outstanding diplomatic arrangements with Terran governments to issue the following warning:

I have reached the point where more than 50% of my personal and sociopolitical problems are solvable with fire.

I do not currently have means to produce fire in sufficient amounts to solve any of these problems except for "I have a raw fish and I want a cooked fish."

When I do acquire such means, there will be an appropriate follow-up announcement, as per the Treaty of Ow Ow Ow My That's My Shoulder You Stupid Fucking Space Cat You Said We Were At Peace (AD 3004).

(This announcement will include the customary ceremonial immolation of a few Terran captives. We've got some lovely ones singled out for abduction.)