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In our locked-down boredom, Americans now risk an untold number of beanstalks reaching into the clouds.

Would you even be surprised by such a thing in 2020?

The story came from Berwick, Louisiana, a woman having received an unsolicited package of seeds in the mail and, like any trusting soul, put them into the earth.

Bad idea, said the plant people at the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Turns out reports had come in from places other than Berwick about mysterious packages of seeds arriving.

The Louisiana Agriculture and Forestry Department fielded at least 300 calls, and the packages bore postmarks from places like China, Uzbekistan and the Solomon Islands.

Maybe a portion of the other recipients planted their seeds as well, perhaps mistaking them for some other parcel they had been expecting from Central Asia or Oceania.

It might have crossed their minds that they had lucked into a surprise shipment of magic beans. That deal with Jack and his beanstalk, it turned out all right, didn’t it? No one can remember the moral of those stories.

No matter, the agriculture officialdom discouraged the planting of these seeds of unknown origin. Maybe they grow an invasive species. Maybe they become a planted-based Trojan horse, bringing to our shores a marauding variety of carnivorous vegetation set to take down the good people of southern Louisiana one at a time.

There, hostile forces have found our soft underbelly during this pandemic … Americans like to garden, no matter the risks.

No doubt an innocent explanation exists for seeds showing up in mailboxes, a special promotion of one type or another.

Or it might be something the new American overlords tell one day as an amusing story, how they hoodwinked a nation into submission. “It all began,” one explained, “with Demitri saying, ‘What can we do with all these mutant seeds?’”

History turns on such whimsy.

In our quarantined lives, natural suspicions should arrive at a sweet spot where we don’t get carried away by seed-related conspiracy theories but we also don’t rush into a wicked harvest.

Red flags should have already been waving after the midweek donnybrook over the Houston doctor claiming a cure exists for the coronavirus and that protective masks have become extraneous fashion in light of this.

Dr. Stella Immanuel, a licensed physician and leader of a church called Firepower Ministries, spoke on the steps of the U.S. Supreme Court with a message that hydroxychloroquine is the key to defeating all things COVID.

Medical consensus, and that of the Food and Drug Administration, holds that hydroxychloroquine might not be a miracle drug as it concerns this pandemic.

Her speech went viral, the social media sort, because President Trump retweeted it.

Only in the aftermath of this did reporting arise on Immanuel’s other beliefs, including that the federal government is run in part by “reptilians.”

(Just because you’ve watched a speech or two in U.S. House hearings does not mean she’s right on this point.)

Additionally, the doctor has said some health maladies come about from people having sex in their dreams with demons and witches. Further, she claims alien DNA has already been in use as medical treatments.

I’m aware that certain foods eaten late at night can put you in a bad place, dream-wise. Not a doctor myself, I can’t speak to what transmissions might take place during the REM cycle.

As for the alien DNA, I think scientists should reach out to anyone if it speeds a vaccine. If ET phoned home, surely the Feds can get his number.

Ken Newton's column runs on Sunday and Tuesday. Follow him on Twitter: @SJNPNewton.​