Into the Nest of the Sasquatch

For years, scientists have debated the existence of fantastical creatures like sasquatch, werewolves and Lady Gaga. How can so many people claim to have seen these modern day monsters and yet there is no iron-clad proof of their existence? All we have are hoaxes where everyday people dress up in outlandish outfits and imitate Madonna. It's all so phony.

Wouldn't you think that if sasquatches were real that there would be some evidence? I mean a creature that size has to leave something behind...hair, footprints, an umbrella (I'm always leaving mine somewhere). We've got nothing. Hold on a second, I'm being handed some breaking news....

Okay, this just in, sasquatches are totally for realz. "Scientists" have found a bigfoot nest in a remote region in Siberia. Apparently sasquatches make their home by finding a nice wooded area and then they just twist them trees like pretzels into a nest-like shape and take a nappy-poo.

Biologist John Bindernagel, who took part in the expedition, said, "We didn't feel like the trees we saw in Siberia had been done by a man or another mammal. Twisted trees like this have also been observed in North America, and they could fit with the theory that Bigfoot makes nests. The nests we have looked at are built around trees twisted together into an arch shape."

Bindernagel seems to suggest that sasquatches are advanced nest makers, as man could not have accomplished such a feat of engineering. We can build jet planes and clone sheep, but we can't build a simple yeti nest. This is what happens when you cut education dollars.

So this astounding report begs the question: just how intelligent is the sasquatch? They've been able to keep their existence a secret for centuries despite our numerous expeditions and state-of-the-art satellite technology. They can construct nests that defy human understanding. To look at one is to lose yourself in an endless vertigo of puzzlement and shame where reality is but a pendulum swinging between emptiness and self-loathing.

Perhaps it's best we stop seeking them out. Can we really afford to get on their bad side (which judging from photos of supposed sasquatch is every side)? I mean if these beasties can twist trees when they're sleepy, I don't want to see what they do to the guy who disturbs their peace...unless it's on video and narrated by Morgan Freeman...then it would be classy.

The Joy of Deer-Calling

Last night, millions of Americans huddled around the glow of their televisions to witness a spectacle beyond all spectacles. I am speaking of course about the Super Bowl halftime show featuring the Black-Eyed Peas (will.i.am, Fergie and the two other guys). The show had it all. Celebrities dropping in from the sky? Check. An army of clones with Christmas-light suits? Yup! An old rocker disproving reports of his death? Sure did! It even had the familiar atmosphere of awkward embarrassment and failure that accompany every halftime production. In a word it was gripping. In two words, it was truely painful.

But there's really no other way. The Super Bowl is just too big a deal to have a sensible halftime show. No one wants to see Beyonce or Coldplay just sing a few of their most popular tunes. We'd much rather have them sing ten-second snippets of every song they know, surrounded by dancing robots with boxes on their heads, while Usher jumps over 25 school buses. That's how America does spectacle. You don't like it? Well...nobody else does either, but if we scale back, the Chinese will think we're weak.

I like how Germany does spectacle. Over there, they have a centuries old hunting tradition of deer-calling. Basically, a group of men and women head out into the woods with ox horns, snail shells and plant stems and holla at some deer. Whoever gets a deer's number first is crowned champion. It is such a popular pastime that all nine participants said they may return for next year's competition (as long as it doesn't conflict with the Super Bowl).

I consider myself a visionary, and I think with a few tweaks, this centuries old German tradition could gain some popularity here in America. Here's what I propose:

1. If a competitor performs a deer-call incorrectly, the deer is given one free charge at said competitor.

2. If a competitor attracts more than one deer, the deer will compete against each other for the competitor's affection. The competitor will eliminate deer one by one until only one deer remains which he may then go on a date with or butcher for jerky.

3. Halfway through the competition, the Black-Eyed Peas, wearing robot ninja suits, will parachute into the forest and sing every song on iTunes.

4. When two minutes are left in the competition, the nefarious deercat is released into the woods. Competitors who attract it, receive a rocket-propelled grenade to the face (if they're lucky).

So I think we have a success on our hands. Time to get some advertisers lined up!

Must...eat...celery

I don't like mushrooms. In fact, I confess I sometimes judge people who claim to like them. I think to myself, "They don't really love them. How could they? So just who are they trying to impress?" But then I think, perhaps they had a traumatic experience as a child, like being attacked by a giant mushroom, and this is simply their way of striking back. And you know what happens then? My cold critical heart melts with compassion...those poor, poor mushroom-lovers.

And though I believe people who enjoy mushrooms are freakish oddities, I admit I can identify with them a bit (a nearly insignificant bit mind you). You see, I love scrapple. Just the other day I was out with friends having breakfast at our local Amish market and when I ordered scrapple, a heavy silence fell over my companions. I looked up from my menu and found them all staring at me, their faces twisted in varying visages of disgust mingled with horror.

After this uncomfortable silence, one girl managed to overcome her revulsion enough to ask me a question.

"Do you know what scrapple is made of?" she asked.
I thought for a few moments before I replied, "Mostly pig, I think. Probably the runnier bits."

This answer did not seem to relieve her concerns. She assured me that scrapple likely came from whatever was mopped off the butcher's floor as if that were a troubling thought. If scrapple came off the floor of a movie theater, then I'd be concerned. But the bottom line is: scrapple tastes good and that's all I need to know.

I know that sounds silly to some degree, but judge not lest ye too be judged. Do you know what's in your favorite foods? What's in Big Macs, or Chicken-in-a-Biscuit crackers, or monkey kabobs? Not many know for certain, but most folks would say probably some monkey.

The problem with food these days is science. We keep finding ways to make food more delicious, but in doing so we introduce chemicals and monkey bits that have no business being in our diet. Our food doesn't need MSG or high-fructose monkey syrup. Those things are just their for flavoring and to quell the great monkey uprising. But that flavoring is so wonderful that we turn our noses up at the simple foods that have been here all the time--foods like fruits, vegetables and lighlty fried smashed pig parts.

It's no wonder our nation is mired in an obesity epidemic. Who wants to eat fruit when we can have sugar-laden fruit snacks? Who wants grilled fish when we can eat them in fried stick form and dip them in creamy mayo-based sauces? And who wants monkey ale? Get yer monkey ale here! Monkey Ale!! Last call!!

Produce companies know they are losing the battle and need to do something drastic. One such company in Florida believes the answer lies in color. They suggest that we don't eat celery because it is green, a much hated color when it comes to food. Their solution is to make celery red. Duda Farm Fresh Foods says the new red celery will titillate the eye and provide a colorful crunch to salads.

I have two thoughts on that matter. First, if they really wanted to turn celery into a color that people love eating, they should have chosen brown. Think about your favorite foods: burgers, meatloaf, fried onion rings, peanut butter, chocolate and monkey-paw flapjacks. They are all brown. I would even submit that brown M&Ms are by far the tastiest.

My second thought: Who chooses red?? Salad already has a red. It's called bacon. I visited Duda Farm Fresh Foods' Web site to investigate. In a press release leading up to their announcement about this new red celery I found the following quote:

“We are so excited to unveil our ‘red-hot’ secret,” said Rick Alcocer, vice president of sales for Duda Farm Fresh Foods. “Many of our customers and fellow growers are curious about the October 16th unveiling. We are looking forward to turning heads and capturing the attention of our customers, the trade media and ultimately consumers to our new red secret.”

Maybe it's just me, but it seems like these folks get really excited about the color red. Nothing from their site suggests ties to communism, so that leaves one final scary probability: their new red secret has nothing to do with celery and everything to do with vampirism.

It all makes sense. I bet vampires hate this obesity epidemic more than anyone. Who knows what you're ingesting when you bite into an American these days? Sure it's easier to catch us than ever, but who wants the indigestion that follows? This red celery idea is nothing more than a vampire ploy to cleanse our systems and it won't work. Instead of turning celery red, they really need to make celery taste like barbecue spare ribs. When that happens, then and only then, will I be able to get my cat to eat celery.

Ringing the Alien Dinner Bell

Do you remember a time when you were hungry but didn't know it? Like the other day, I wasn't thinking about food at all, but then my awesome wife starts cooking some Shake and Bake chicken fingers. Once the smell hit me, all I could think about was dinner...and an odd mental picture of actual chicken fingers where one particular chicken wearing sunglasses shot "hand" guns at me.

I wonder if animals experience the same thing. I envision a pride of lions just laying in the shade under some big tree on the African plains. They're enjoying the cool breeze and relaxing...when down in the valley they see a sickly zebra limping through the grass.

They exchange glances and then Gordon, their leader, says, "You know chaps, I don't think we've eaten since that crippled wildebeest collapsed by the old termite mound. I don't know about you, but I could sure go for a bit of sickly zebra."

The other lions nod in agreement, except for Erik, as usual. He looks at the others and says, "Look, I'm sure that sickly zebra will taste just as wonderful as the crippled wildebeest two days ago, or the gangrenous gazelle from last week. But am I the only one here worried about the health consequences of eating these genetic disasters?"

"You worry too much Erik," replies Gordon. "Remember that mangy baboon we dined on last year. That creature was far more ghastly than this zebra and we didn't have any trouble then."

"What are you talking about?!" returns Erik. "My gums bled for a month and I still can't see clearly through my right eye!"

"That's because you don't brush properly and sit too close to the television. You can stay here if you like, but were going to get us a heaping helping of sickly zebra."

During this conversation, the zebra perished, which made things quite simple for Gordon and the others. Erik did not join them and it's because of his cautious attitude that he was able to avoid contracting neurologic zebrainiaccus disease and remains the world's last talking lion.

As usual, this whole idea got me to thinking about aliens. If they knew we were here on earth, would they suddenly realize that they're pretty hungry for humans? I think a lot of us believe aliens are smart and refined and that one day when we meet we'll get along fine. Well guess who disagrees with you? Only the smartest guy on the planet, Dr. Stephen Hawking.

Just days ago, Hawking said on his new TV show that a visit by extraterrestrials to Earth would be like Christopher Columbus arriving in the Americas, "which didn't turn out very well for the Native Americans."

The famous British physicist speculated that while most extraterrestrial life will be similar to microbes, advanced life forms would likely be "nomads, looking to conquer and colonize."

So maybe we should hold off on letting anyone out there know we're here. Oops! Too late! We already did. NASA beamed "Across the Universe" to the star Polaris in 2008 to promote the space agency's 50th anniversary, the 45th anniversary of the Deep Space Network and the 40th anniversary of the Beatles song. And in the same year, as part of the publicity for the remake of "The Day the Earth Stood Still," the movie was broadcast to the stars despite the fact that broadcasting a Keanu Reeves film to aliens could be interpreted as an act of war.

I'm sure some unhungry alien was just chilling with his buds watching "So You Think You Can Adajgiusduqjsk" when suddenly their television went all fuzzy. When the picture returned, they saw "The Day the Earth Stood Still". They exchanged glances and Gordon, their leader said, "Hey chaps, when was the last time we plundered another planet and devoured their population?"

Erik as usual was the first to reply. "Wait a minute fellas. Remember what happened the last time we assaulted a backwards planet? We all got the shingles and Todd and Suzie ended up getting dissected."

Gordon patiently replied, "Erik, you worry too much. These roundskulls practically sent us an invitation. This film they broadcast even shows us how they would try to stop us. We'd be doing them a favor by conquering them."

Erik watched a few more minutes of the film. "Yeah, they should have sent us Iron Man."

U2, Car Pools, and Fish Schools

Years ago I developed a rather complicated in-depth means of discovering whether or not specific people represented a danger to society. I’ve used it for years. I look a person right in the eye and ask, “Do you like U2?”

If they say “yes”, “sorta”, or even “I used to” then I consider them relatively harmless. If however they say “no way”, “I hate U2”, or “I prefer reading books” then I take off running in the opposite direction spilling my emergency bag of tripping-marbles behind me.

The way I see it, people who rebel against the most commonly accepted opinions in our society are either dangerous attention-starved revolutionaries, flesh-eating zombies or hipsters. U2 may not be the best band in the world, but most people would agree that they’re fairly decent. So what kind of person would come out and say they don’t like U2? That’s like saying you don’t like puppies, freshly-baked pie, or toilet humor. Such people are unpredictable radicals (or zombie hipsters).

So imagine my distress when I found myself not liking U2 earlier this week. It all started when I left work. I was whistling a merry tune about puppies eating pie and then laughed about a fart joke I heard earlier in the day. I drove my car out onto the street and immediately came to a halt. All I could see in front of me were other cars, stopped just like me.

I turned on the traffic report and learned that a U2 concert at FedEx Field had completely destroyed the afternoon rush hour. All roads were blocked with scores of rock fans wearing shades that made them appear either cool or having glaucoma. Excitement was at a fever pitch because many of these folks never expected to have a good time at the Redskins stadium. For us working stiffs however, this was a nightmare (late-afternoonmare?). I started thinking to myself, “Who do these guys think they are scheduling a concert at 7 pm on a Tuesday evening in Washington, DC? I’m not so sure I like them anymore.”

It was a sobering moment. Was I at my tipping point? I felt the desire to rebel against authority rise within me, when suddenly a motorist blew past me on the shoulder nearly ripping off my side mirror. That brought me back down. After all, common public opinion would say that that driver was … not right, and I certainly agreed.

Imagine swarms of cars side by side, some inching, others quickly weaving, all going in the same direction. The danger was real, and I saw plenty of fender benders. People and cars are not designed to be in that kind of position for that amount of time and come out safely or sanely. But soon perhaps we will.

A team of researchers in Japan have designed some goofy looking robot cars that may cut the risk of car crashes by mimicking the behavior of fish. If you’ve ever seen a giant school of fish, you’ve probably noticed that despite their close proximity to each other, they never actually hit each other. How can that be? Dark magic you say? Perhaps, or maybe there’s some communication going on between them that we can learn and adapt to our crazy traffic patterns.

The robot cars, which look like creepy sci-fi ghosts, can travel in groups of seven, avoiding any bumps by sharing information collected from lasers and radio communications. Sound promising? I’m not convinced.

Here’s my problem. Schools of fish usually go in the same direction at the same speed, but that’s not reality for human drivers. To really make the comparison that fish are like drivers in DC traffic, fish would need to:

1. Hate each other—How dare those other fish be in front of me? Do they think they’re better than me? That one fish is texting while swimming! I’m going to ride his tailfin and turn on my fishy-dark-magic-enhanced high beams!

2. Hate traveling in schools—Safety in numbers my eye! If only some alien beam could vaporize that annoyingly slow angelfish! Where are the sharks when you need them!

3. Not value their own life—I will weave in and out of all my fishy brethren at speeds that shed my scales from my very skin. If I die, I die going fast.

So this new research is all well and good, but I’ll be much more excited about these robot fish-cars when they learn not only to hate each other, but when they value their trip destination more than their mortal destination. And until then, how cool is it that they look like ninja E.T.'s? I want a green one!

Pups on a Plane

I have two guinea pigs and a cat. When I tell people that they always ask me how they get along with each other. Well, the pigs stand back-to-back like gladiators protecting each other's blind spot while the cat circles, feigning strikes and dodging spear thrusts. Sometimes a rogue silverfish wanders into the arena causing the cat and pigs to enter into an uneasy truce to vanquish the icky newcomer. It's at this point I wonder if the silverfish appearance is linked in any way to my wet basement. Anyway, they get along fine.

One thing all pet owners can probably agree on is that death by shark attack is one of the worst ways to go. Another thing we can all agree on is the trouble with travel. What do you do with your pet when you go on vacation? Do you have someone stay at your place? Do you ship them in the cargo hold of the airplane? Do you dare activate your Stargate knowing full well that the Goa'uld are watching?

Well thankfully someone has finally come up with a solution. It's called PetAirways and it's the first airline just for pets. For now, it's just for cats and dogs but they say soon they'll be able to accept birds (which is ironic) and "exotic animals" like the gambian pouch rat and the giant squid.

For only $149 your pet will be treated like royalty, with free in-flight pet treats, comfy crates, and no lines for bathrooms. This of course raises the question: If I dress up like a German Sheperd, can I get this deal? The answer apparently is not only no, but you may end up in the psychiatric ward of your local hospital.

Scissors Beat Paper; Rock Beats Vampires

When J.K. Rowling penned the final book in the mega-popular Harry Potter series, she probably didn't realize the powerful void she was creating. For years she made the written word popular again, with books such as "Harry Potter and the Sorcer's Stone", "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", and "Harry Potter and the Furry Spider that Was Hiding Under Yesterday's Cereal Bowl and When I Went to Clean the Bowl Nearly Had a Heart Attack."

The final book was published, and then there was nothing. Children went back to playing video games, cruising the Internet, and leaving the front door open while the air conditioner was on. Many authors looked at this void and saw an opportunity to inherit the fame left behind by Rowling. But the void was a powerful vortex, sucking in their boring and unoriginal fluff and it grew stronger like Shagdarrum, the hairy dust monster in my vacuum cleaner. I know that vacuuming will only make him stronger, but the cat sheds quite a bit and I need to keep the spiders at bay.

But then something quite unexpected happened. An author penned a teen romance book about vampires and before you could say "xbvccyadkshlck" a new golden era had begun. Stephenie Meyer was the new queen of the castle and her "Twilight" series was the new ... dynastic achievement.

And yet not all was well in the land. Sure, some readers loved the characters and relationships, but what about the vampire purists. Meyer's vampires didn't have fangs. They cared not about garlic or holy crosses. They left the seat up in the bathroom and never washed their hands. They left empty milk cartons in the fridge. They didn't turn off their electronic devices during takeoff or landing. They looked gift horses directly in the mouth. They crossed the road after only looking one way. They swam immediately after eating. They ended sentences with prepositions. They fed the animals at the zoo, left their phones on at the theater, and they never ever used their blinkers.

Vampire purists hated this. Vampires have fangs. They sizzle in the sun. Garlic, holy crosses, and holy water give them incredible indigestion. They use the word "bleh" like smurfs use "smurf". How dare Meyer not adhere to the facts?!

But that's the problem. What facts do we really have about vampires? Well according to a recent story in livescience.com it appears killing them may be easier than we'd think. Back during the days of the plague, folks thought vampires were everywhere. To stop them from rising during the night to feed, they'd stuff a rock in their mouth. Then they'd wake up and be like, "Hey! What's the deal with this rock in my mouth. I want some blood foo!"

Apparently these undead beings who are impervious to pain, could not extend their hands to their mouth, grasp the stone, and then remove it. Either that, or the stones had nothing to do with vampires and were actually part of a very morbid Easter Egg hunt-style game.

Still though, if you come across a slumbering vampire, it's probably best to just chop its head off or something.