13 December 2013

Animal Planet Producers Hate You

I've discussed Animal Planet programming before. The following 7 examples offer proof of the sadistic nature of the programmers:

Let’s say you’re a bartender or a cab driver or drug dealer or something, working the night shift. You come home exhausted and fall into bed. Since you aren’t interested in falling asleep to the lull of Proactive infomercials, you locate the remote and flip to the Animal Planet channel, since they play regular programming 24 hours a day.

You expect to drift off to a peaceful sleep quickly, but of course you have to get up to pee, because that’s just what happens when you finally relax enough to sleep. You figure you’ve got ten minutes, tops, before exhaustion claims your consciousness and you drift into sweet, sweet… Holy Mother of God! What the fuck is that hyena doing with its head up an elephant’s ass?

1.   Eating Giants

The Animal Planet wants to know if you’ve ever wondered what happens to animals after they die in the wild. Instead of telling us some pretty lie about Elephant Heaven they figured they’d show us in stomach turning detail the aftermath of death. Hyenas and insects and maggots and crocodiles feed on the dead elephant for your viewing pleasure. Since sleep is now out of your reach for the night, or maybe for the rest of your life, you don’t change the channel when the dead hippo episode comes on next.

For the love of God. You realize a number of things quite suddenly, really. First of all, you are watching this animal being eaten from the inside. Why in the name of everything sacred did they shove a camera inside of the carcass? How did they nominate the camera shover? Is that legal? 

You also realize that hyenas are probably the most disgusting animals to ever walk the earth. For some reason, they appear to enjoy smelling like dead things, or they simply like to cuddle with their meals before they tear into them. You aren’t even sad as you remember the clip that shows some maggots somehow move from the carcass of the elephant to feed on the anus of a hyena. Karma. You vomit and almost fall asleep, thankfully before the sleep-deprivation induced psychosis can set in. 

2.   American Stuffers

Having shown you what happens to dead animals in the wild, the Animal Planet offers this sweet reality show about a taxidermist in Arkansas who specializes in pets because you will never, ever want to leave a dead animal to nature.

This little jewel includes episode titles like “Keep Your Dead Animals Out of my Kitchen”, “How to Stuff a Chihuahua” and “The Woman with the Pet Raccoon”.
And this cute little clip, titled “Freeze Dried Pets” because there is no longer a God.

Since that fucking NONO commercial is on every other channel, you just keep watching Animal Planet, because fuck it, the last few shows have already consumed what you had of a soul and you come across…

3.   Monsters Inside Me
You don’t even attempt to contemplate what could have happened to the cute puppy shows as you enter the world of parasites. Every episode features people who have been infected with one terrifying and disgusting parasite or another. You watch the shows titled, “Suicide Attackers”, “Feeding Frenzy” and “Cold Blooded Killers” to name a few, as the show explains the terrifyingly simple ways the victims acquired various parasites.

To feed your increasing paranoia, you watch cute little clips on the Animal Planet website called “Brittney Coughs up Worms” and “Attack of the Killer Pea” and the ever-popular “Brain Eating Parasite”. You decide you are never going outside again. Ever.

Now that you’ve quit your job and sealed your air vents to prevent air-born parasites from entering your home, the Animal Planet would like to introduce you to…

Well, that’s fun. Now that you are too paranoid to go outdoors and you wear a nose plug in the shower to keep the brain eating amoeba away, the Animal Planet has produced a t.v. show just to make you feel unsafe in the sanctity of your own home. No matter how many times you bleach everything, you can’t prevent an infestation of the various demons disguised as bugs and shit shown on Infested.

You watch as families across America battle all kinds of infestations, from raccoons to black widows, snakes, cockroaches, and bats. At some point during the bedbug episode, you find the strength to crawl out of the corner you’ve been rocking yourself in and fall into bed. Bedbugs are cool, you figure, if the Animal Planet is to be believed, bedbugs are probably the best thing that could ever happen to you.

Thoroughly convinced that you can hear something munching through your brain and that the sound your fridge is making is actually a horde of black widow spiders searching for a way in, sleep eludes you and you can’t help but hear as the Animal Planet decides to fuck with your fragile psyche just a bit more with…

5.   Monsters in my Head

You cower beneath the covers as real people tell stories of being terrorized by demons and bugs and other things that are… well, just not human anyway.

After watching Sleeping with the Devil and also the Monsters of the Night episodes, you decide that sleeping is probably the worst idea ever. You sweep the room for mysterious figures or bugs while shoving amphetamines down your throat in  heart stopping quantities.

Must stay awake.

6.   Freak Encounters

A team of investigators sets out to discover various terrifying creatures. Did that say Mongolian Death Worm? What the fuck is wrong with these people? Who would want to look for that on purpose?

As the amphetamines eat through the fatigue and fear in your brain you realize that this a some kind of practical joke show. One of the unsuspecting investigators is being set up for a staged run in with a mythical creature.

You relax a little bit, tell yourself you never believed in Mongolian Death Worms any, and even laugh a little as the butt of the joke gets bleeped out repeatedly.

And then, as if the Animal Planet producers can somehow sense your waning paranoia, they throw this one at you,

7.   Killer Outbreaks

Since they’ve already shown you how a tiny parasite can kill you, they assumed you wanted to know how they can also kill EVERYONE. And since they figure you may have some trust issues with the network by now, they bring in the CDC to explain how a pandemic is waiting to strike anytime, making it even more horrifyingly real.

The show details real life outbreaks and the implications of new virus strains and as you tuck yourself back into your cozy rocking corner and order a gasmask off your laptop, you get to hear more than you ever wanted to know about Anthrax, SARS and even Salmonella.

Because.. Obviously. The producers have no souls. And they hate you.

18 September 2013

In the Wake of the Naval Yard Shooting Public Demands Asinine Gun Control Measures, Krissy Plugs Ears and Sings Nursery Rhymes Really Loud In Futile Effort to Block Ignorance

None of this it true either.

In the wake of the Naval Yard shooting and subsequent revelations about the gunman, this writer once again did not interview any of the following imaginary people.

Because the failure to understand laws and regulations as well as the ignorance displayed during gun control debates never fails to surprise me, and also because I am a glutton for punishment and mental anguish, I asked imaginary people what their thoughts were on the recent Naval Yard shootings.

Non-person One: Well didn't he have PTSD? How could he buy a gun anyway?

Non-person Two: I heard he called the cops and told them he was hearing voices. They should have done something. Taken the paddy wagon straight over there, with Thorazine darts and probably beanbag rounds, just for kicks. They should have locked him up in a hospital somewhere, then this wouldn't have happened.

Non-person Three: Who got shot this time?

All three seemed incapable of grasping the fact that states have pretty specific criteria when they commit someone against their will, mostly involving being a danger to themselves or others. In many states, this criteria includes the language "imminent danger". Although Non-person Two did state that based on every serial killer movie he'd ever seen, hearing voices is always a definitive indication of imminent murder sprees.

Non-person One suggested that we restrict the sale of guns to people that were being treated for a mental disorder, most specifically, veterans with PTSD. Claiming that little to no understanding of the disorder made it okay.

After I informed Non-person One that countless veterans suffer from PTSD their entire lives without ever seeking treatment, he suggested we ban the sale of guns to all veterans.

He further claimed that restricting the civil rights of the men and women that signed up to defend them would be perfectly acceptable to a fearful and panicked nation.

Non-person Three inexplicably suggested that I look into Ireland's gun laws and murder rates. He also mentioned something about Monsanto before lighting another joint and wandering away.

Non-person Two suggested that all arrests, whether convicted or not, should disqualify a person from owning a gun. Barring that, he suggested we just confiscate all the guns in the nation, because no one could die if there weren't any guns.

When I asked the remaining subjects whether they had any less idiotic suggestions regarding gun control, they once again called me a racist and threw bottles at me.

As I left the scene, they were busy writing up some legislation about simply euthanizing any person being treated for any sort of mental illness before they could snap and kill everyone.

15 September 2013

Zimmerman Jailed Again, Entire Nation Calls for Stand Your Ground Repeal, Krissy has Forehead Bruise From Repeated Facepalm

None of this really happened.

Speaking on the condition of anonymity because he's an imaginary person, Florida Police Officer Jim confirmed reports that George Zimmerman has once again been arrested.

While he declined to comment on what landed Zimmerman in jail again, he did offer the following, "Well."

Officer Jim shrugged. "He, you know. He's been pulled over twice now. And then that thing with his wife. Plus, you know he shot that kid... and." The officer appeared to be gathering his thoughts. "Well then, you know, he saved those people in that accident, or something like that. And then. Well, pretty much everyone just thinks he's an asshole."

He expects Zimmerman to be released within the hour. No charges have been filed.

Spokesman for CNN denied to give an explanation as to why the fuck Zimmerman's run-ins with traffic cops were considered national news, probably because I didn't really ask them.

When I questioned no one on the street they had this to say:

Non-person number one: We have to get rid of that Stand Your Ground law, that's how that guy got away with murder.

Non-person number two: Well, he broke that iPod because he didn't want his estranged wife to have evidence of him threatening her.

Non-person number three: Who the fuck is George Zimmerman?

When questioned as to how, exactly, Stand Your Ground let Zimmerman get away with murder they claimed that it has raised the justifiable homicide rate in Florida since it was enacted. They offered nothing when I asked them if maybe that was the entire point.

They refused to consider any case but Zimmerman's, offering only that if a woman shot her ex-husband in the street outside her work because he was maybe trying to kill her and violating a restraining order, well, fuck her anyway.

As for the iPod, no one seemed to care about the fact that Zimmerman broke the iPod after having been hit with it. Non-person One claimed that violence was never an option, so I'm assuming that he was never in a long term relationship that ended badly, not to mention publicly.

When I offered that yes, Zimmerman was an asshole, and yes, he should have listened to officers and that no, he shouldn't have followed some kid he didn't know, and yeah, he probably deserved to have his ass kicked, and agreed that it is a tragedy that a young man died, they all nodded emphatically.

When I suggested that none of that really mattered in the self-defense case, they began steaming from the ears.

Except for Non-person Three as he was busy trying to down an entire fifth of Jack in one swallow.

When I reminded them that Stand Your Ground never came up in Zimmerman's defense, their eyes all glazed over, even Non-person Three.

When I further reminded them that Zimmerman had been acquitted of murder by a jury of his peers, because the way our justice system works is that you are innocent until proven guilty. Or it's supposed to anyway... And that obviously the jurors found that Zimmerman was in fear for his life, or couldn't, beyond a reasonable doubt, say that he wasn't in fear for his life, they threw bottles at me and called me a racist.

Non-person One and Two were working on legislation aimed at making being an arrogant prick a capital offense when I left the scene.

05 April 2013

Ladies, really. It's Not That Fucking Hard

And back to the shallow end today...

I keep seeing these Facebook posts about relationships...And while I certainly realize that I am probably the last person on Earth to give any advice or even an opinion on relationships, I am going to anyway.

It's not that fucking difficult. Let's take a look at the shit you're putting out there:

For starters:

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I mean really, if you are single and a man says to you that he wants you to prove that you are not a whore like every other girl he's ever dated, you would run the fuck away, right?
If not, you're just an idiot.
If you start a relationship with the idea that someone is just like the last one, he's going to be automatically defensive and probably won't take too long to get fed up with your shit and walk away.
You dated an asshole. 
Who hasn't?
We've all been hurt and fucked over. You know what you do? You suck it the fuck up, realize you are better off and move on.
If you find yourself incapable of moving on? Get a therapist and work through it before you decide to date anyone again.
It's only fair.

And then there's this one:
Again with the I may not be a normal girl, but Jesus Christ, if this is true? Knock it the fuck off.
Is there some girl code that guys are supposed to decipher before they should be permitted to date someone?
How about, I love you meaning I love you? How about, if you're not okay, you fucking tell someone instead of waiting for him to read your damn mind?
If you say you are okay, he has every right to assume you are telling him the truth.
Once again, relationships don't have to be as fucking difficult as girls seem to make them.

And finally for today:

You had better be a perfect person, lady. I mean, really, who the fuck do you think you are?
You have no issues? No faults? Haven't made mistakes? Does that mean you don't deserve him either?
That's a healthy way to look at a relationship, mostly. You're human, and therefore  imperfect, and you don't deserve anyone to love you.
What kind of asshole thinks that way?
And these tend to be the same girls posting shit on Facebook about how they just want a "nice" guy and talking about how lonely they are.

25 January 2013

Goddamn I Miss You

I didn’t want to go. I couldn’t not go. I had no desire to see my dear friend Terry laid in his coffin, but I felt that I owed him at least one more visit. One last chance to say goodbye and to apologize for dropping the ball. I hadn’t seen him in six months or so, hadn’t even called him. That is the thought that dominates my drive to the funeral home. I’m so sorry Terry. I guess I dropped the fucking ball on this one.
The only comfort I can find from my own guilt is that Terry, of all people, would have understood my neglect. Of all of the people in my life, that old man knew me the best.
His daughter saw me come in and came to stand in front of the coffin with me. She rubbed my back, comforting me, when I should have been comforting her.
“You know, he loved you so much.” She told me, and all I could do was nod. As hard as I tried to hold them back, tears fell anyway. I looked at him in the coffin; so yellow, so much thinner than the last time I had seen him.
I don’t blame anyone but Terry for his death. The man drank Jack Daniel’s like it was water. He was the definition of an alcoholic, and we all knew it. I contributed to his alcoholism, going so far as to bring him pints of Jack when he was out of money. Terry was in a stage of alcoholism that necessitated drinking. Plain and simple? If he had stopped, cold turkey, he would have died.

I stared at the pictures of him in his youth and wondered, behind those smiles, was he as tortured as he was when I knew him? They had put a picture of him and I on the board, from my wedding. I remembered how he had agonized over what gift to buy us.  
I looked at the Purple Heart medal and the flag draping the coffin and I wondered if his family knew of his demons. I am wondering, right now, if I should send the letters that he wrote to me from jail to his family. Would he have wanted them to know about the things that he did, that he saw? In this day and age, his family surely knows that he suffered from PTSD. But do they know why?
People were all full of concern and advice when Art was in Iraq. Many of them kept assuring me that he was going to be okay, that he would be home soon. All that did was remind me that he was gone; that there was a fairly decent chance that he wasn’t going to be okay.
All Terry had to say was, “You hear from that Marine, Krissy?” I would answer, and that would be the end of the conversation. Terry knew that I had a hard time processing anything deeper. It helped me more than any amount of reassurance I received from anyone else.
When Art came home, Terry was in jail. We wrote to each other. I tried to remain upbeat, but there was a mountain of shit at home that I couldn’t deal with alone. I wrote to Terry about all of the problems; all of the doubts and anger between Art and I.
I couldn’t relate to Art, couldn’t understand where he was in his mind. And even though Art and Terry rarely spoke, Terry could.
Terry wrote of his own demons, the times that he withdrew. He warned me that this sort of depression may be seasonal and to pay attention to the time of year that Art withdrew from the world. He said that his own depression was at it’s worst during April and May. He told me that Art may need to seek professional help, or he may be okay on his own. He urged me to stay patient – to a point.
In one letter Terry explained to me:
 “I once killed a kid with an E-tool.(A kind of small shovel.) I see that kid’s face all of the time.”  He went on to explain that he pretended that it didn’t bother him for a long time, because he didn’t want to seem weak. In Vietnam, he explained, it happened all of the time. He never spoke of it, because while it was big deal, he felt that it shouldn’t have been.
There are more horrific scenes that filled his mind when all was quiet. He drank to still them. He drank to sleep. He drank to function. He made no attempt to deny the fact that he was an alcoholic.
Terry made it home from Vietnam, when so many of the Marines that he served with did not. His mind and his soul, however, never came all of the way home. More often than not, I suspect, his mind was still there. Replaying moments that he regretted, and also ones that he didn’t regret, but couldn’t forget.
Am I sorry that he is gone now? Not entirely. I will miss him and I love him. I find comfort in the fact that finally, all of him has made it home. In death, this man can find the peace that eluded him so often in life.
Silently, I take a moment to thank Terry for saving my marriage, for being my friend, and for knowing instinctively exactly what I needed to hear from him, all the time. I also apologize for not calling when I should have and for not making the time to come and see him. Before I leave, I wish him peace, and tell him I love him.
In the car, I find myself wishing that I had told him, while he was alive, just how much he meant to me, and how much he did for us. For that regret, there is no comfort.