21 June 2008

You're either with us or against us

In case you haven't been following the news closely, we here in Chicagoland have been subject to numerous infestations of deadly animals previously unknown to the area as well as attacks by familiar adversaries. We recently dealt with a cougar roaming the streets of the city, we frequently dodge bands of coyotes at dawn and dusk, and, if the gossip on the street is to be believed, people are also fighting off chupacabras and carnivorous unicorns on at least a bi-weekly basis.

And, if all that wasn't enough, we now seem to have alligators commanding our life-giving waterways like terrifyingly toothy admirals at war:

It's no croc: Alligator found in Chicago River

And you know what they say about alligators-- whenever you see one, there are at least 173 that you can't see.

Clearly, we are at the forefront of a burgeoning war against nature. Of course, this isn't really a new conflict any more than World War II was a sudden flareup of tensions after a couple decades of happy rainbows. We made a very uneasy, unbalanced agreement with Nature sometime after the Industrial Revolution and it has been stringing us along while taking the time to regroup before coming back for more. All those hurricanes, mudslides, awkward rashes, mosquitoes, and deadly-virus scares in the meantime have just been training exercises and passive-aggressive warnings from our bitterest enemy.

By not making a separate peace with nature's predators, and by not offering concessions to the gods of weather, such as laying down our hated umbrellas and burning our Doppler-wielding meteorological shamans at the stake (sorry, Tom Skilling, but I don't want to be eaten by a cougar), we were unable to keep the forces of nature divided and prevent them from putting aside their differences and reuniting to rid themselves of the human menace.

As far as I can see, the logical next steps for me are as follows:
1) stop shaving
2) start hording gas
3) wear protective athletic gear on the outside of my clothes for some reason
4) fashion some lightweight armor plating for my Camry

Meanwhile, I'll practice my one-armed pullups and begin indoctrinating my son into an eventually ancient brotherhood of stoic, overconfident warriors, training him against the unbelievably prolific but lazy neighborhood rabbits and the irritating rats that occasionally wander over from a nearby restaurant's dumpster.

Next, I'll school him in the weak points in the offense of nature's greatest killing machines, once I find out what they are (I'm confident he'll be all over this part of the training, as it would give him an excuse to roar more often). Thankfully, there is a well-stocked free zoo here, and I'm sure you'd agree it's better that we take those predators out before they escape and run rampant across the city without any of the lovable whimsy of either of these bands of recent escapees.

In case you think I'm exaggerating, I'll pick just one more piece of evidence from the pile here at hand:

Python found in toilet in northern Australia

Clearly, they've already learned when we're most vulnerable and most embarrassed to be attacked, so they're way ahead of us.

But fear not, dear readers, because this isn't all bad news: if it comes to it, we can at least satisfy our need for spite by destroying nature along with ourselves, in ways we're all quite familiar with, and secondly, you all just might be getting those Armageddon* tote bags I promised you sooner than you thought.

* The world-ending event, not the awful movie.


Sue Doe-Nim said...

Sorry, it's still not as scary as an undisciplined 3 year old.

Housewives everywhere are unfazed.

Fiesty Charlie said...

I am with Sue on this one...

Seriously dude! My 2.5 year old is jumping up and down behind me and kicking me in the head and shoulders as I write this.... I am unfazed!

Candid Carrie said...

Well Hell's Bells Dan-Oh, this is some real scary stuff going on and it isn't just your neighborhood. There some "grooming" of the landscape going on in our neighborhood where they ultra rototilled (I don't know if I used that correctly) woods adjacent to our property's woods to make overhead lines more accessible in the event of an emergency.

Well, the emergency for me is that we have several red fox that bask in the sunshine of our driveway. We have seen the coyotes sulk through our yard. These carnivores have no place to go except into the city or slink onto our wooded property.

We are an hour north of Milwaukee and remain fearful of your Chicago gangbangers taking their drug treks all the way to Green Bay to buy their guns but those dudes aren't hanging out in my woods (that I know of right now).

Unless I misunderstood your post for today, then never mind.

Anonymous said...

Wait 'til you meet my ex-wife. She makes Jason (movies) seem like a panty-waste.

Dad Stuff said...

Sounds like a super hero in training.
We have many bunny thugs that need to be rounded up.

Mama Dawg said...

173 that you can't see? I thought it was only 168...dang, now there's 5 more gators I have to contend with not seeing.

I'm still waiting for my bag.

Isn't this a sign of the end of the world? If so, exactly where am I on the minion ladder? I need to know how much butt kissing I need to start doing.

LiteralDan said...

Sue Doe-Nim and Fiesty Charlie: But kids love animals, so what if they recruit massive armies of toddlers to overwhelm us all with their cuteness and tantrums. Mine have pretty sharp fists, too.

Candid Carrie: Rototillers are our tanks in this war. And the feller buncher is our atomic bomb.

Actually, the atomic bomb is our atomic bomb, but the feller buncher is like a super tank or something.

Those gangbangers could easily be repurposed to fighting off the wild animals out there in Cheese Country. And you'd be grateful. Then you'd ask them to leave unless they were willing to start talking funny and stop not being nice.

Mo: Well, now I hope to not ever meet your ex-wife, just like that! However, you should contact a Hollywood agent about getting her some kind of horror crossover movie deal.

Dad Stuff: Those bunnies are thugs, indeed. I don't like the way they stare at me.

Mama Dawg: I've heard rumors that for each of the 173 you don't see, there are at least 5 more that you can't see, because they are invisible.

We'll have to wait till Nature, or some other force, makes its move before I start issuing tote bags. You'd have no need for them before then, anyway.

I'd say you are somewhere in the middle right now, because while you've been very loyal and very kind, I've got a responsibility to keep you humble, and to give you something to reach for.

Besides your shotgun when you think you hear an invisible gator creeping into your bedroom in the middle of the night.