Get Them Beavers!
We're
in the middle of a heat wave up here in the highlands, so I walked early
this morning before it got too hot. I'm in the house for the rest of the
day, so I walked around looking for things to do.
I was getting bored, so I whipped out my iPaw from its docking station. First I listened to a beautiful jazz composition by Felonious Monk, and followed up with My Favorite Things by John Coaltrain.
After listening to music, I took a quick look at the latest news. Several headlines caused me to pause and wonder:
DigitalTrends.com, June 23, 2017: Researchers at Columbia University Medical Center and McGill University have figured out how to selectively wipe some memories from the brain of a snail, while leaving others intact.
I didn't know that snails have brains, but I do know that depriving a snail of some of its memories is just not right. Those might be memories of loved ones or career accomplishments. What's wrong with these scientists? Just how does this research make the world a better place to live? Leave the snail alone! I'm going to report this to the International Anti-Defamation League of Snails.
TMZSports, 6/24/2017: Rape Case Rejected Over Holes In Sodomy Claim
Hmm. No comment.
International Journal of Organic Evolution, 5 May 2017: Pre- and postcopulatory sexual selection favor aggressive, young males in polyandrous groups of red junglefowl.
More power to the red junglefowl hens for having multiple boyfriends, but everyone knows that the aggressive, young males get the hen, especially the ones wearing Ray-Bans, silk ascots, and Italian leather shoes. This fact needn't be published in a journal. It's like publishing a paper that says the early bird gets the worm.
I got tired of the news, so I decided to look for some new gopher recipes. The Google search results were pitiful - hardly anything but redneck gopher stew recipes. I decided I better upload my best gopher recipe: Gopher Gushi.
Start with a freshly killed gopher. Now we all know that the gophers you buy at the deli or meat market are not fresh. They're almost always imported from Arkansas, the gopher capital of the United States. (Sometimes even Chinese and Vietnamese gophers wind up in the deli case.)
Ozark gophers are the crème de la crème of gophers, but if they're not fresh, it don't matter. So to get a fresh one, you're gonna have to dig it up yourself. Chomp it a few times until it stops twitching, and then prepare yourself for a feast. Goshi Gopher is eaten whole and raw. If it's readily available, you can first wrap it in seaweed and serve it with a side of rice.
Caveat emptor: Gophers are ugly spuds and have some sharp body parts, so when you eat one, don't look at it lest it upset your appetite. Before swallowing, thoroughly crush the skull so it doesn't stick in your gullet or upper digestibules. (You can use the claws like toothpicks.)
Finally I browsed to Netflix to see what movies were available. I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled and scrolled. I was almost to the end when I spotted it. (By the way, never scroll to the very end of Netflix. It turns into a singularity - very bad.)
The movie was called Zombeavers "You'll all be dammed." This blockbuster earned $44,080 at the box office after it was released in 2014.
Here's the story line. Three young college girls - white, bikini-clad, dumb as a box of rocks, the usual bimbos - go out to a lake on a weekend for sex and debauchery. The girls go swimming. They see a beaver dam and call out "Here beaver, beaver, beaver" (with all the nuance of a whoopee cushion).
Out in the water they frolic and show off their stuff for the camera until they are attacked by zombie beavers, the product of barrels of toxic chemical waste (bile from Donald Trump's liver) that had been dumped into the water. They're attacked again when they're in a cabin.
The bloodthirsty, zombified beavers look like hand puppets with buck teeth and oil and catsup smeared on them. There's only one thing reverberating through their pathetically crazed minds: "Get them beavers!"
I was in a quahog. I knew if Richard caught me watching this movie, he would confiscate my iPaw and bar me from watching any videos for at least a month. (Even Richard has certain standards to maintain.) But I wanted to see it! My trembling paw hovered over the "Play" button. Finally I mustard all of my self-restraint and put away the iPaw.
I better go for a walk so I'm not tempted to pull out my iPaw again. Or maybe not. I've still got those zombie beavers on my mind. Maybe, just maybe if I sneak my iPaw into the tool shed out back ...
Time is the fire in which we burn.
~ Delmore Schwartz