The Animals Are Revolting

This blog was not created to be a space for ranting. And yet, here I am.

A few very disturbing articles have ruffled my very non-flamboyantly-coloured feathers as of late. Visit the following links if you'd like, but I think you'll find my summaries to be sufficient.
Brace yourself:

Monkey Fitted With Hi-Tech Chip Moves Robotic Arm -- Ok, this one really has me reaching for the Alka-Seltzer. I had grown quite comfortable thinking that the only experimenting we were doing with monkeys involved testing mascara for allergic reactions and co-starring in Ronald Reagan movies. Apparently, the great scientific minds of America now feel that our branch-swinging cousins should also be equipped with space-age mech-armour.

Ever try living with a monkey? I did, for an entire semester back in college. I won't bore you with the details -- I can't see any of you being at all interested in my slapstick misadventures involving myself, Pickles the chimp, and a briefcase full of precious rubies. The point is this: the little bugger broke my mothers urn, ate my thesis paper, and threw it's feces at me at inopportune moments.

Now imagine if that furry hell-bringer had a pair of skull-crushing mechanical arms. I can tell you this much -- with that kind of advantage Pickles would have never let me beat him to death with a toaster.

He had it coming.

Town Besieged By Cougars -- When this headline first caught my attention I figured a busload of eligible older ladies had descended on some small college town seeking curious young studs with Fruedian issues. Not so.

The multiple incidents occurred in recent days in the community of Princeton (the town in British Columbia, not the school that had me escorted off the property after attempting to incite a panty raid -- get your mind out of the gutter, it was for a documentary on teenage sexual development). Several cougars have been sighted prowling amongst the human population, and in one case, stalking a couple of kids swimming in a river. Somebody shot that cougar, and I would like to raise my goblet to that talented sharpshooter, because I recognize the threat. I once had a traumatic experience involving a pack of cougars -- another boring story I can't see anyone being interested in (but if you are, simply google 'man covered in fresh rabbit's blood accidentally falls into pen of starved, ravenous cougars' or something like that -- like I said, boring story).

The point is, these fanged killers simply don't have the mental capacity to understand that humans need space, lots of it, and that you can't encroach on the land God gave us to build our sprawling neighbourhoods, factories, and commercial lots. And if you do, we'll kill you, because that's what guns are for. Shooting animals.

24 Foot Shark Washes Up On Long Island Beach -- I didn't know they made them that big. But now that they know, I'm questioning whether I'll ever go water-skiing again. As you know, I love to water-ski, and I've been a card-carrying member of the Long Island Water-Skiing Association for a good many years (pictured, I'm in the third row, second from left). To find out one of these grim aquatic predators could be stalking my turf is unsettling, to say the least. My only consolation is that the shark in question is dead -- but what if it had brothers?

Apparently it's a 'basking shark' - sounds made up to me - named so because they appear to bask in the sun while hunting fish on the water's surface.



Oh, they 'bask', all right -- in the blood of innocence.

They don't have any teeth, either, but I suspect that's because they like to swallow you whole, alive, and then let you slowly starve and rot in their gas-filled, noxious bellies. Just a theory, but I'm probably right.

If that isn't enough for you, check out Food Shortage Blamed In Rash Of Bear Sightings, or if bugs are your thing, Pine Beetles Continue To Infest Alberta Trees.

There's cougars and bears stalking the land, beetles and killer monkeys-with-bionic-arms hiding in our trees, and devil-spawned monster sharks eating our fish and basking in our sun.

It won't be long before Planet of the Apes becomes a reality -- the only question is: will you be filling in for Charlton Heston...or Doctor Zaius?


*note to readers: I'm not quite sure if that concluding line regarding The Planet of the Apes really relates to the rest of the article, but no matter, it's a great line -- really gets the mind racing.

iPhone Applications That Should Exist, But Don't, But Soon Will

As you probably know, I'm a bit of a technology and gadget buff -- well, being investigative by nature, I'm really more of an 'everything' buff, which brings me to the 'iPhone'. Multiple sources report that the 'i' in 'iPhone' stands for 'internet', 'interface', or maybe it's just a way to personalize a souless gadget.

Personally, I would also suggest 'insipid'.

For those of you out-of-the-loop, the iPhone is a cellphone that can do stuff -- like the Knight Rider's KITT in cellphone form. If you own one of these ivory devils you can hit the information super highway (to learn about that watch Sandra Bullock in The Net) and download handy applications, software that can aid you or entertain you anytime, anywhere. From handy grocery list applications to... well, the handy grocery list application is the only one I know about, but I'm sure there's others.

And here's a few they probably didn't think of (but if they did, I wouldn't know, because I only know about the handy grocery list applications):

MORGAN FREEMAN TRACKER
As many of you know, I'm a huge fan of everything Morgan Freeman has ever done, said, will do, or will say (Deep Impact is my 6th favorite film of all time). The Morgan Freeman tracker keeps you abreast of Morgan's activities -- his filmography, movies he's currently working on, places he likes to eat, where he shops, and a running tally of intruiging things fished out of his waste bins.




CELEBRITY RESTRAINING ORDER DISTANCE TRACKER
Let's say you have pending legal restrictions unfairly held against you preventing you from coming within, say, 100 yards of, say, Morgan Freeman. This tracker not only keeps track of all the silly details of your many restraining orders (essentially, 'how close you can get without ruffling feathers') but actually monitors the distance between you and your prey. Did I say prey? I meant Morgan Free- sorry, I meant 'the person of interest'.



EXPIRY DATE CALENDAR
How many times have you bit into into an old sausage only to find it filled not with meat, but rotten brown paste? How many times have you taken a swig from the milk carton only to find you mouth suddenly brimming with cottage cheese? Do you harvest your fresh vegetables from the inside of an old open can of Manwich? If so, then you're a lot like me, and should probably seek medical help -- and download the Expiry Date Calendar while you're at it (if it existed).
Here's how it would work: as you load your fresh groceries into the fridge, you meticulousy enter the weight, brand, and expiry date of each product. The process will take hours, but this handy-dandy 'app' will alert you when the product in question is 'turning', and how long you have to ingest the product before it becomes harmful.

The logistics of this thing are mind-boggling, but imagine the money you'll save. Luncheon meat gone a little greenish? Sure, but is it cover-up-the-stink-with-mayonnaise greenish or deposit-at-your-nearest-biohazard-containment-facility greenish?

Either way, you might want to run a check on that mayonnaise while you're at it.


I have more 'app' innovations, but I think I'll be turning them in for cash-money at a later date. I'll tell you this much -- one application, in particular, will give you the power to add and subtract numerals with the push of a few buttons. I call it the 'portable mathematiculator', and, God willing, will be available in 2011, with a 'dividing and multiplication' slated in 2013.

The future looks bright, people, so remember your Ray-Bans.

Michael Jackson is still alive, without question

I'd stake my career on it.

It's a hoax almost 20 years in the making -- and I applaud him for it. Not since Orson Welles duped a nation into believing they were under threat of a martian attack has a hoax been so masterfully concocted and carried out.

Thriller -- the guy trots around dressed as one of the living dead, not unlike Christ, the original zombie. In fact, it wouldn't suprise me in the slightest if the King of Pop rises from his crypt during his memorial service at Neverland Ranch and belts out a few lines from 'Do You Remember'. I could also make a loose connection between his sparkling glove and the hand of God, but I'd have to consult the bible and I can only read that thing once a year.


The oxygen chamber -- here's where Mike will be spending his time until he chooses to make his return. The National Enquirer has been throwing this in our faces for years but no one was listening. I suspect this is where he wrote 'Heal The World'(and feasibly, the entire album 'Dangerous').

Apparently there are claims that this photo (above-right) is a fake -- apparently, the oxygen chamber, built by Sechrist (hmmm..'see Christ'? More weight to my 'MJ as JC'-zombie theory) requires the user to be nude. To me, this is a flimsy claim. The photo looks real, and though I don't know a whole heck of a lot about digital photo manipulation, I can't believe the technology has come far enough to trick the eye of a trained journalist. Also, would MJ really pose for a photo in his 'Sechrist' without clothing? No, he definitely would not, not with his mottled, freakish discolourations (note: in Canada, we spell 'colour' with a 'u').

There's much more evidence, of course -- Jacko's many attempts to absorb the collective lifeforces of unsuspecting youths -- you remember that kid with cancer that claimed Michael and he were having an inappropriate relationship? Cancer, my foot -- that kid was having his youthful lifeblood sucked out of him and deposited directly into Mr. Jackson's brainstem.

And how does Tito fit into all of this?

Joe Jackson (ahem, not to be confused with Joseph, husband of Mary, mother of Christ!!) has claimed he suspects foul play. I suspect a certain 'Smooth Criminal' just pulled off the hoax of the century...

Strike Three: Protesting the Protest

It's no secret -- I'm not a big fan of protesters, strikers, or even those clipboard-wielding college dropouts that collect money for Sick Kids. Here in Canada, people prefer to keep to themselves. Confronting a pedestrian with a pamphlet and a war chant is more likely to inspire them to curse your cause than support it. At least that's how it is with me.

I don't like people shouting. I don't like human walls, or crudely designed picket signs. I don't sign petitions. And yet, I seem to be experiencing something that I can only describe as 'protest fatigue'. In the last few months we Torontonians have had to tolerate Sri Lankan Tamil protesters trotting their women and children out to block one of the cities busiest highways, lazy garbage workers striking because they're lazy garbage workers (that would be reason enough for me), a threat of a strike by Liquor store workers (which resulted in record sales -- sounds like a booze-soaked conspiracy to me), and now problems next door: Air Canada workers are planning a strike to coincide with the Vancouver Olympics, cutting off an influx of tourists and their precious tourist dollars.

Do you like having a gun to your head, a gun held by a person who already enjoys the pleasures of a pension, health benefits, and a paycheck? I am -- I'm at the point where I want to disarm the gunmen and turn the pistol back on them, ala Steven Segal.

So let's turn lemons into lemonade. Garbage is piling up on the streets of Toronto, and though I resent the odour of curdled milk and festering, rotting meat as much as the next guy, I can't help but wonder how much work the union will have on their hands once the strike is resolved. I relish the thought, in fact. I could build a lifesize replica of the Michelin Man out of dog feces and leave it on the corner of Yonge and Dundas Street -- it will, inevitably, be cleaned up. So now, for once, we can spit our gum here and toss our soiled diapers there. In fact, if you have a corpse stashed in your freezer, now's as good a time as any to drop it off at one of the cities many infested public dumping grounds.

Toronto is now a public dumping ground -- so enjoy it.

The Future: It's Where I Am

Here we go -- July 1st, 2009 will forever be remembered as one-part Canada Day, five thousand parts CyberZone 5000 launch day. I don't know what happened in the news today, and frankly, I don't really care. Ten thousand tsunamis couldn't dampen this parade.

More to come as I figure this whole 'blogging' thing out. Much has changed since I first kicked in the screen of a Commodore Amiga and predicted the demise of the personal computer and society in general. Note that I did not place any sort of target date on my predictions -- meaning it's all going to go down as I have foreseen. It just hasn't happened yet.

So, as you can see, you are all quite lucky to have found your way here, where I can dictate the truth to you from my Matrix-esque web-throne.

It's going to be a wild ride -- and here's the tagline: 'If you don't feel as if you're living in the year 5000, then you're probably not checking out Paul Drebber's Cyberzone 5000 web-log.'

We may have to trim that down. I'm not sure how well that will read on a bumper sticker.


Yours forever,

Paul Drebber