The great mosquito conspiracy: or, I am really itchy...

The mosquitos are in league with somebody, folks. Some force of evil out there has caught on to my prophesying and has hired a force of mosquitos to hunt me down and persecute me mercilessly for trying to warn the masses about their plans to kill off humanity. It might be the slime molds; in their multi-species proclivities and doom-mongering depravity, they would seem to be rather well disposed toward going into cahoots with a group of blood-sucking, still-water-loving jerk-offs like mosquitos. But then again, it could be the robots, because they know it'd seem unlikely for them to team up with any organic life form and therefore I might not catch on to their little scheme. Or, god help us, maybe it's the slime-mold robot! God, I hate that guy.

Anyway, the point is, I'm wise to their game, whoever it is that's overseeing it. I'm no dummy. I know the difference between the acceptable number of bites I can expect to get in an evening of sitting outdoors in the city. For me, the number is higher than it is for many, since I've always been a mosquito magnet, but it hovers somewhere around 3. 10, however, is unacceptable, abnormal, and extremely f-ing uncomfortable. Especially given that on the night in question, during which said 10 bites appeared, I was with a group of at least 6 people at all times, none of whom have told me they are suffering from a single bite. Furthermore, for much of the time in question, I was seated in a beer garden the size of a football field, surrounded by hundreds of other people. There is no way that my 10 bites are proportionate.

And, yes, I know it's been a wet summer, leaving more than the typical amount of standing water sitting around in the city and leading to a lot more mosquitos than there usually are in the urban colossus. I know this. But even my usual high level of attractiveness to vampiric bugs, multiplied by the above-average number of the little monsters hanging about, still does not equal the overwhelming number and intensity of bites I'm trying to cope with in this hot weather. It's just not mathematically correct (yes I've done the math, but it's way too complicated to post up here. Most brains just can't handle it.). These bloodthirsty cretins are after me, specifically. I'm certain of it.

I know it sounds paranoid. I was thinking maybe it was. So last night I put my theory to the test and took a chance on walking outside in a friend's backyard to see his tomato plants. It was around 11:00, and we stood out in the garden for less than 2 minutes. When I went back inside, I told myself that if I didn't have any mosquito bites, I'd let the mosquito-robot/slime mold theory go. If the bastards aren't really out to get me, I'd be unlikely to get a bite in such a small amount of time.

Well. When I walked back in and looked down at my knee, there was a mother-f-ing mosquito ON IT, sucking out my lifeblood. 2 minutes, people. 2 minutes of outdoor activity (during which I was constantly swatting the air, running my hands over my limbs, etc, in pre-emptive fear of blood-letting), and I was already a banquet.

That's it, you bastards. I'm on to your game. You will NOT drain me to the point of hospitalization, thereby shutting down my warnings about your plans for world domination and doom! I will not leave my readers in the lurch of your evil scheming! Anopheles quadrimaculatus, you, your gang of buddies, and your robot/slime mold employers will not bring me down!

I bought some bug spray, dammit. And I'm using it every time I step out the door. For all your scheming, mosquitos, you're pretty easy to repel with storebought spray. So take that and shove it up your proboscus! I'm armed and ready. Bring it.


(Post Script: I figured all this out last night and am now carrying my bug spray in my purse, displayed prominently near the top to warn the suckers that I'm not afraid to fight back. Well, whoever it is that hired the mosquitos to track me is apparently on top of things. This morning, at the 59th and Lex stop, I got literally attacked by a COCKROACH. They're bringing in the big guns. I was walking toward the staircase to the street, and a cockroach the size of my big toe suddenly came running at me--me, specifically, out of the entire crowd of people!--from across the stairwell. Well, screw you guys. I can carry Raid around, too, if you want.)

The Brooke of Eternal Youth...

Well, folks, I guess this is it. I've probably said this before, but I'm pretty certain I'm right this time around. We are fast approaching The End of All Things.

Oh, you want evidence? Well, I could easily point to several posts in the history of this blog, like perhaps the one about Nicolas Cage making a live-action Sorcerer's Apprentice film, or my personal discovery that we are already living in the Matrix (thanks, Wall-E, you little bastard), or that my dream of killing geese is coming true on a genocidal level.
Or, I could point out that we are on movie #6 of the Harry Potter series (once that #7 comes out, it'll all be over - mark my words), that whats-her-other-OTHER-face from The Hills is getting HER own reality show as well, or that Buzz Aldrin is recording a hip-hop album with Talib Kweli and Snoop Dogg (yes, he is).

But instead, I'll just point to the adorable Brooke Greenberg here.


That is a current picture of Brooke, who turned 16 in January. She has the body of an infant, the bone age of a 10 year old, the assumed mental capacity (because she doesn't speak, it's hard to tell) of a toddler, and despite the fact that she obviously does not age normally, she has no apparent disease, syndrome, or real disorder of any kind. There is nothing physically wrong with her at all (except of course that she appears to be wearing a scrunchie around her head, but I think that might have more to do with her mother). In fact, she's survived seven stomach ulcers, a brain tumor, a seizure, and a stroke, and has survived all these maladies with no lasting damage whatsoever to her system; most of her medical problems, actually, have gone away mysteriously, as if by magic.

She was put on growth hormones early in her life, which had no effect on her at all. She stayed the same height and weight as before.

Not a single doctor who has looked at her bizarre case has any clue what's going on, since there isn't anything actually WRONG with her. The closest they've come to an explanation is that her body systems seem to be aging at different rates, none of which are normal.

Her family conjectures that she might be the key to the "fountain of youth," and doctors who are examining her DNA are calling her "that golden ring" of power to the age-old mysteries of why - and, worse, HOW - we age and die.

Know what I'm gonna call her? And I mean absolutely no offense to Brooke or her family or her doctors or anyone when I say this, because it's not their fault in any way, but... I'm gonna go ahead and assume she's the AntiChrist ("He will appear to survive a fatal injury" [Rev. 13:3; 17:8]? Check. "He will have no regard for the desire of women" [Dan 11:37]? Check. "He will rise from obscurity…a 'little horn'" [Daniel 7:8]? Check. "His arrival on the world scene will be accompanied by miracles, signs and wonders" [2 Thess 2:9]? Check.)

Or if you're not into the whole Revelations thing, she might be easily labeled The End of the World. Yes, I am a-ok with labels in situations like this. Because, call her what you will, it seems unlikely that little Brooke here really has any designs on ending the world as we know it. Well, at least at this stage, unless her one and only cognizant thought is the word "Doom" on repeat (which would be interesting, because that's pretty much what goes on in my head - I'm just too much of a wimp to put it into action). Although, if that's the case and she IS a Doombeast, little Brooke would need to either develop the ability to speak or put others under the control of her Doom Brain in order to enact her evil plans. She hasn't done so yet, but she might just be biding her time until her immediate family dies so she won't have to upset or hurt them personally, since it appears they've been pretty good to her. And I suppose I shouldn't put it past her to take the world down to hell if she wants, given that she seems more than capable of performing miracles already - her brain tumor just disappeared. Poof. Gone. It would seem, to my paranoia-crazed brain, that whatever Powers of Good are trying to do her in are failing.

But the point here is, I'm not necessarily pinning any active evil on Brooke herself. Would an evil entity really submit to wearing the scrunchie? Probably not. No, I'm more worried about what will happen if scientists do manage to turn that golden ring into a key and unlock the secret of eternal life. Even if scientific inquiry as a whole (which, now that I'm reading about the characteristics of the Biblical AntiChrist, seems to be a perfect fit, since modern people worship it) were to do The Right Thing with the information and keep it highly classified and away from the greedy prying eyes of the masses, that information would immediately become The Most Valuable Thing In The World and those who had it would... well... do I need to go into the details of human nature?

Let's just say I see one of several things happening, and none of them are in any way enticing. One: a few rich, rich, rich and greedy souls get their hands on the key to eternal life and implement it in themselves and a few of their buddies, eventually coming to rule the world, probably in a not-so-fun fashion for the rest of us dirt-people. Two: we all get access to it and way too many people become "immortal" or close to it and we end up overpopulating like a bunch of dumb bunnies and killng each other and everything else in our path. Three: nobody implements the immortality secret, necessarily, but somebody HAS it and that knowledge, and the desire for it, lead to World War III in which we all die horrible nuclear holocaust deaths.

In the meantime, peeps, I'd recommend really enjoying the hell out of these last two Harry Potter movies, and buying Buzz Aldrin's hip hop record.

Damn my soft, flabby heart...

Some of you may know about my intense hatred for Canada geese. Anyone who's ever spent any time with me during the winter on the Fordham Rose Hill campus has probably seen me trying to kick, throw things at, or at least hurl insults at the flock of geese who settle down there every year. I think they do this because they think -in their dim goosey way- that the pond that existed where the Walsh Library now stands way back in the days of St. John's College (ahem - the 1830's) is still there. And every year, when they get to the campus and are surprised and amazed to find a library instead of a pond, they honk and dither about for a while, and then settle in for an entire winter of digging up the lawns, eating the brown grass beneath the snow, and shitting everywhere.

They just suck as animals. They're dumb, they're dirty, they're loud, and they're all over the damn place, and I've always said we should start having open goose hunting season in New York to keep them under control.

But then, I read this: NYC to Gas 2,000 Geese In Bid to Protect Aircraft, and I started feeling a little squeamish.

Because there have been so many plane crashes and run-ins and technical difficulties recently with geese "colliding" with aircrafts, and one majorly over-hyped case of a plane landing in the Hudson when this happened, the city is authorizing the trapping and GAS execution of 2,000 birds this year during molting season, when the birds can't fly in order to escape.

Don't get me wrong, my somewhat-blackened little wannabe-evil heart is trying really hard to rejoice at this news, because geese are my sworn enemies. And I do try to be a credit to the forces of evil to do Maleficent proud.

But, I mean, trapping them while they're unable to escape and then turning the GAS on them? Doesn't that sound awfully World War II Germany? Doesn't that sound cruel and unusual and awful? Trapping and gassing (gasing?) just seems downright... well... evil. Sure, they're obnoxious and loud and would probably taste delicious with a little cranberry sauce and some mashed potatoes on the side, but do we have to be so sneaky and mean about it?God knows we have enough trigger happy outdoorsmen frustrated by their lives in the city - couldn't we give some of them permits to hunt the airport flocks while they're more upwardly mobile to give them a fighting chance? PETA is gonna have a hell of a time with this one...

http://www.scificool.com/category/the-sorcerers-apprentice-2010-movie/.


Oh. Oh no. This is all wrong. This. Is. All gone horribly wrong. I Thought I'd just post the link because it actually is going to give me pain to have to describe it. But, if I don't describe it, in ... you know ... words... You might not click it. Ok, I'm taking a deep breath. Calming...

That link up there, is going to take you to information and - dear god - screenshots, of Nicolas Cage in... The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Yes, it's a film. 2010. Live action.

I'm just. This makes me feel the same way as this:

http://uk.reuters.com/article/filmNews/idUKTRE51P0YR20090226.

That sonofabitch right there is a link to an article about talks to remake The Neverending Story. Peter Jackson is mentioned. I just. I don't quite know what's happening here.

Oh, wait... Holy.... Oh no.

http://ontheflix.com/2009/03/31/original-actors-will-appear-in-the-new-ghostbusters-3-remake/.

Oh, it's Ghostbusters. I don't care if Jesus were in this, like really honestly Jesus, I probably would still be pissed.

And the end of times, ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Drum roll...

http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117989391.html?categoryid=13&cs=1.

Rocky Horror.

Well, that's it folks, I'm cuttin' my ties and up and moving to Tibet. I plan to start farming yaks and using their strong but very soft wool and selling it to designers. I'm out. And I'm taking this guy:

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3416/3196188065_3025768ab9.jpg.


SO stay away from me.




Happy 420 Everyone!

Why Is She Always On About Robots?

Ok, people, if you actually read all my long and rambling blogs, you already know that I have a problem with robots. I just don't trust them. I take science fiction quite seriously as I believe it expresses our deepest fears about the invasion of modern technology upon the ancient and deeply ingrained intuitive beliefs of the human being, and science fiction is forever telling us that robots are not to be trusted. It tells us that they will eventually destroy us, or find a way to dominate us completely, once we have gone too far and made them too advanced for us to control.

I believe this to some degree. People often think I'm joking about it when I mention it, but I really honestly don't think it's a good idea for us to keep making more advanced robots. Friends argue that all they're for is making our lives easier, and while I see the appeal of this (I mean, hell, I'm ever thankful for the devices in my own home that save me time, like my oven and my washing machine, etc), I don't think that we really NEED to have all our tasks taken from us. I mean, sure, it would give us more spare time if we no longer had to do our household chores because we could have the TurboMaid3000 do it for us, but then what would we DO with that time? Probably eat more donuts and watch more YouTube. Not exactly advancing the human race. (This really just belies my lack of confidence in the human race and its capabilities, but am I wrong? I mean... Look at emo kids. They have HEAPS of free time.)

Anyway, I digress. What I'm trying to say is this: be very, very careful people. Pay attention to your surroundings. I have reason to believe these damnable electronic cretins have already taken over. I think we may already be in The Matrix.

Seriously. I only say that with a very faint smirk on my face. If we're NOT already under the control of these metal-plated freaks, we need to be on guard because they're closing in on us.

Here's why: I finally got around to watching Wall-E the other day. Cute movie, really well done. I won't deny it. But maybe TOO well done, if you get my meaning. Of course, I went into the experience on my guard. I told myself: "Watch out, self. Remember, no matter how cute this little hunk of metal is, in reality this could never happen. He's a robot and he doesn't, and never could, have feelings. This is just Disney anthropomorphizing the next phase of Cute Thing, as is to be expected. Don't get all googly eyed over the cute robot. Keep your wits about you, or they'll bag you in the end."

Of course, I softened up by the end of the movie, at least allowing myself the luxury of enjoying the story and appreciating how well it was crafted. But the whole time I couldn't get out from under the strong suspicion that this was nothing but pro-robot propaganda! Someone out there was saying, more or less, "It's ok to trust robots because they are really cute, very sweet, good-hearted creatures that only want to help." In order to get this message across, howver, the creators of the movie had to blatantly lie to make what would really be a cold, lifeless yet animated junk heap look somewhat like a cubish frog with adorable eyeballs. They had to make it human. And it worked. Really well.

The pro-robot agenda in the movie is made almost undetectable by the appearance toward the end of the "evil robot" villain, Otto (I think?) who tries to commandeer the spaceship from the captain and keep humankind from returning to earth, but who is eventually defeated by the strength of the human drive to do What Is Right. This plot twist is a feint toward championing human beings' free will, as well as the possibility of robots turning bad.

But in the end, Wall-E and his adorable girlfriend Eva save the day along with the humans, and are made heroes for their valiant, emotionally-charged devotion to one another and to ... get this ... preserving Life Itself. The robots are the heroes. The robots, who are IN LOVE with each other, get humans back to earth to start over. All with the help of their robot friends, who will no doubt clean up the planet for them, because otherwise, well, that'd be a lot of work, and humans are much happier without having to do that, right?

The whole thing smacks of the movie's creators being enamored to the point of infatuation with the idea of robots, and utilizing a cute storyline together with a good grasp of human emotions (and how to manipulate them) to give people a warm fuzzy feeling toward robots. They're just there to help. Don't fear them. Etc etc. But, think about it: the characters are almost heart-attack-inducingly adorable. The story is so cute it's almost... perfect. Perfect, like a robot made it. Cold, calculating robots programmed to take advantage of our weakness - emotions - to influence us toward the robot cause. Or, just to numb us into being comfortable with robots as our masters before they pull the plug on our feeding pods and startle us into the reality of the Matrix!

I know this sounds paranoid, and I'm ALMOST joking. But, here's why I'm not. In case you've never seen Wall-E, the story revolves around a post-apocolayptic vision of Earth. A sweet little robot named Wall-E and his buddy the cockroach are the only moving things around. One day, another robot comes to the planet to look for life, and in the process meets Wall-E. They fall in love of course, but then the second robot, Eva, finds a plant and has to take it back to her spaceship to report that there is sustainable life on Earth. The plot thickens when she loses the plant, which is growing in a shoe full of dirt, and madness ensues as she and Wall-E try to find it and deliver it to the ship's captain.

Well, after watching this gooey robot love-fest, I was suspicious but willing to let it go and chalk my deductions up to my superior plot-smelling abilities, along with a bit of paranoia. But then, on my way home from where I'd seen the movie... for no reason at all... in the Bronx, on 151st St... on the street... I saw: A SNEAKER FULL OF DIRT. Just sitting there for me to see. In an area where there is no dirt, only concrete. For no reason.

I cannot see any other way to explain this phenomenon, other than that the robots who are running the world put it there to tell me: "Yes, you ARE in the Matrix, bitch. We own your ass. And nobody's gonna believe you. Hahaha, sucker!"