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
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080620/ap_on_fe_st/odd_chicago_alligator

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
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080620/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_australia_python

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.

Do not fill above this line!

Seven things that spring to mind whenever I see these dumpsters with American flags painted on them:

1. That's right-- "Don't tread on me" is for all you old people! My generation boldly declares that we'll accept a substantial amount of your oppressive garbage, but only up to a preset point. And even then, it's really only a guideline. (Proud salute, and a single tear.)

2. Just burning the flag is for pussies! Why set it on fire when you can instead fill it with the biggest, most filthy pieces of trash around, and then steadily chip away at it until it's obliterated into a mere mud-stained memory?

3. This is a Bush Republican's idea of true patriotism.

4. " 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore' ...and I will imprison them in a rancid dumpster for the low, low price of $5,000 a month!"

5. Does it count for proper disposal of an old flag to throw it in this thing, instead of ceremonially burning it?

6. What's next? American flag g-strings, handkerchiefs, tampons, and adult diapers? "For only the most discerning and incontinent of patriots."

7. The United States Flag Code should be more widely publicized, and it should absolutely be enforced for corporations.

Now that's home cooking

This morning, I thought that M- had created something unholy in her diaper, as she is wont to do. It was something I hadn't smelled before, though, so I was confused, since we hadn't fed her anything unusual the previous day. And the random things she eats off the floor (we're not the best housekeepers) don't usually add up to enough to affect herrrrrrrrr... output. By the way, yes, we do try to stop her from eating off the floor. Except of course when I've put pieces of cereal on the floor in a trail leading her wherever it is I need her to go.

But I digress...

Anyway, upon further review, the smell did not seem to be emanating from the baby's direction. Rather, it seemed to be emanating from the walls, floors, appliances, and my eye sockets.

I had faint, unbidden recollections of the dog food factory we used to live near, which I do understand does not sound all that unpleasant to anyone who has never lived near a dog food factory. Just trust me on this one when I tell you I was quickly looking to find the source of the smell and smother the life out of it.

It slowly dawned on me that it really was seeping through the floor and walls, and pouring in from under the front door, as our downstairs neighbors were "cooking" again. Generally, we are treated to (literally) stomach-turning waves of powerful East Asian spices, which is at least understandable compared to this smell, though in the past the smells have been so powerful we have literally been driven out of our home for an evening or longer. In answer to the inevitable "what on Earth are they cooking?" question, we have received such items as Styrofoam coolers labeled "Frozen Whole Cooked Octopus" amongst their voluminous garbage piled on our shared porch, as well as right next to our THREE ENORMOUS GARBAGE CANS. Sorry about that... sounds like this might be a few separate posts.

Anyway, this smelled nothing like food, and I cannot imagine what it was. But the weirdest part was that this was the morning, so either it was a very elaborate breakfast/brunch (no waffles and cereal for them!), or just the awful-est phase of an even more intricate dinner, because the smell faded by mid-afternoon. The world will never know what it was, of course, because we almost never even see our neighbors, much less speak with them. On a side note, all interactions we have had with the one representative we do see have been appropriately polite and friendly thus far.

Screamingly loud, predictably off-key karaoke sessions at all hours don't count as "interactions", right?