This is not a Start Trek-related rant. Although the person who inspired me for this instalment of the blog no one reads, or at least admits to reading, unless they are in a confessional or on death’s door, genuinely is a Trekkie. Let’s just call him Jim.
It is winter and the holiday season is here in full swing with conflicting messages from all manner of outlets – continued materialistic consumption ad nauseum vs Papal demands for humility and spending caps on gifts. And of course Omicron (who many people thought was a character on the Transformers TV series from when I was a kid). It’s a confusing time.
How this all relates to a dead spider is a bit of a long-winded tale that I should shorten for those with short attention spans, namely all literate earthlings with an internet connection and a pulse.
New Age Spider Tolerance
Where I live, it has been a dry winter, with little snow. Warmer than usual and ever the sounds of birds that usually migrate, hanging around asking for directions south and to the nearest bird feeder.
Stories of climate change, climate crises, climate-controlled chip factories and sexy climatologists have dominated much of the news this year (if you discount the January 6th attack on American democracy by small-brained lunatics). Frequently, the message has been we need to do something about this before Mother Nature actually locks us out of the house.
In my bumbling, uninformed opinion, Mother Nature isn’t trying to tell us something. She’s already told us a thousand times to clean up our rooms and we ignored her. So now, like any parent who’s given up hope, she’s focusing on her life and taking time to go the spa and letting the house fall apart while she’s out drinking tequila slammers and having casual sex.
But I digress. (It’s my best skill.)
Countless studies and reports have shown us how we have irreparably disturbed animal habitats, while human-induced climate change has forced animals of all species to move to where they can survive. Lobsters are migrating north. Sharks too. Beavers are now in the arctic. (Funny, no animals are moving south to Florida or Texas. They must fear for their lives given there’s no gun control.) Even hairy, loathsome, fear-inducing spiders too are adversely affected by climate change.
Wishing or Squishing Your Enemies Dead
Yet most people I know want spiders dead. Not maimed, not incapacitated, not neutered, not even resettled — but dead. Even the kindest, sweetest people want them dead.
Famed humanitarian Albert Schweitzer was quoted as saying, “The purpose of human life is to serve, and to show compassion and the will to help others. Spiders, however, should be crushed mercilessly with an iron boot!” Likewise Mother Theresa was quoted as saying “I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things. Like killing every last spider in this village with an iron boot!”
Even noted psychopathic expansionist and part-time flower shop owner Attila the Hun was quoted as saying “If I find one more damn spider in my yurt, so help me god, I will rampage across Asia and Europe and lay waste to the Romans too! Man, I wish had an iron boot.”
What happened to new age spider tolerance? What has the arachnid ever done to you to warrant death? They just want to eat bugs and freak you out when you run into their widely strewn webs. Is that so wrong?
Holiday Mirth and Death
If, during this time of holidays and short sunlit days in the northern hemisphere, you have a chance to ruminate, meditate, cogitate or pontificate on Nature and all forms of life, take pleasure in all those around you, human and animal. But if you need to crush a spider that lands on your table while you eat, don’t tell anyone I said it was ok.
Mundzuk Of the Huns Druker
Modern day reality TV shows know no depth to which they will not sink in order to attract viewers. They’re aimed at idiots. It’s why people still love Big Brother that’s now translated into 3000 languages and is broadcast in every country and planet in the Milky Way. Turns out there’s unintelligent life in other parts of the galaxy. Idiots outnumber us, dear readers. Big time.
Same goes for competitive cooking shows. They exploit people who truly love to cook only to be yelled at and belittled for an international audience. Maybe even an intergalactic audience. And worse, they’re hosted by arrogant idiots who give their willing cooks ingredients like old socks, fermented goat anuses and mineral oil and expect them to come up with a delicious meal in a TV-timed 22 minutes.
Given that the-idiots-to-not-idiots ratio is about 6 billion to 1, I decided that I too could come up with an idea for a reality show that would be a smash hit. Switch the governments of the Taliban and Haiti to run each other’s country for 6 months and see which one explodes first. But it would have to be hosted by an arrogant, self-important and stupid host from CNN. There are many to choose from.
So what does the world of idiot TV shows have to do with sub-mental people who question whether to vax or not to vax?
Idiots & Questions
It’s a tenuous argument at best, given that I haven’t had a chocolate danish in over 3 weeks. However, I think that the global pervasiveness of stupidity has infected humanity, which has led to anti-vaxxers. What else could explain why a sane person would refuse a vaccination against a virus that has killed more than 4 million people?
You’d rather take horse de-worming medicine and potentially lose your sight than take a vaccine? You’d rather listen to anti-vaxxers who have died because of COVID than take your medicine? You’d rather tell people you’re firmly anti-science and think drinking bleach will solve the problem? This can only mean one thing – idiocy must be a side effect of being an anti-vaxxer. Or is it the other way around?
I’d bet you that if you gave people free pornography and beer you’d convince more people to get the vaccine than lotteries, guilt-trips, cash incentives and celebrity endorsements combined.
Now I am concerned. Maybe a genetic trait of anti-vaxxers is an expressive idiot gene They become not just half-wits, but full-on morons! They’ll procreate even more and spread not just their flawed mental traits, but they’ll spread rumours like dogs having two noses (One dog does, actually. I couldn’t resist that wildly gratuitous non-sequitur. I stumbled on it while surfing on Flipboard).
Obviously more education isn’t the answer. We’ve tried that. Neither is coercion, nor threats, endorsements, financial incentives or even people actually dying from the virus.
My suggestion is this: Have the secret shadow world government run by Marion Dawson and Disney Corp. activate the microchip given to us in the COVID vaccine and instruct us to gather all the anti-vaxxers, put them on ships and send them to live with the Taliban for one year on an isolated island with no food or clothing.
Now there’s a great idea for a reality TV show.
Disturbingly disturbed and full of grilled pork,
Dalai Lama Trinley Gyatso
Who is more stupid? Humans or is artificial intelligence? I read a little while ago that there’s a list of 403 forbidden words used to filter search and website results. The AI program in some search engines uses this list to keep ‘bad’ words from showing up in search results and potentially offending viewers of the global cesspit that is the Internet.
I didn’t look at this list (yet) and I’m sure it’s missing entries that my father used to curse me and others at random points in his life when he was brought powdered sugar donuts that His Royal Highness didn’t deem to be fresh enough. But I digress.
Using AI to detect meaning and context in language is very difficult. With artificial intelligence you need to give it to a developer who understands computer languages. That very faulty human has to somehow figure out a way to have an algorithm understand, recognize and learn about those bits of vocabulary, usually without context, and then get it to figure out you are indeed searching for, let’s say, “feckless hairy pinatas” and not “recipes with cherries and bananas.”
It’s pretty darn complicated.
Logic, Language and Context
Let’s say you’re wildly passionate about metal fastening devices and you type in the word “screw” – you may not want to be led to a website that shall we say is chiefly concerned with advancing carnal knowledge (via credit card) and shows off heavily tattooed and physics-defying intimate body interactions. Or maybe you do. I am not here to judge. Yet.
You see human language has nothing to do with logic. Let alone artificial intelligence. Or animal intelligence. It’s about conveying an idea or information for many interesting reasons. Sometimes it’s to show dominance, display accumulated knowledge, make people laugh, or to purchase a fresh chocolate danish, and not the one that’s been dropped by the ham-fisted teenager behind the counter.
In numerous studies done by a guy named Manny in a remote fishing village, he determined that most often language is used to get another person to pay attention to you so you can fish through their pockets for valuables while they’re not looking. This sounds quite credible to me.
Have We Learned Anything?
Absolutely nothing. All we can really assume after this short rant is that I doubt that the masters of this list of forbidden words can ever teach and create algorithms that can handle the breadth, depth and ferocity of dirty words I know I have used in the past week since I stubbed my toe. Let alone the stuff that my father used to say to the tv. And me.
Terribly tired and fed up waiting for his COVID vaccination,
Dr. Philmore Blemish III
There’s a force for change spreading through the world. It’s not what you think it is. It’s not positive thinking, or low carb diets, or even drug-induced cross-dressing. It’s the force of stupidity.
Think of it as the low-normal relative of The Force except too many people use it to guide their daily existence. Like Trump believers.
You have heard me expound at length about the depth of human idiocy. My father, the realist/cynic salesman who could spot the force of stupidity at a distance, clued me in this force of nature when I was 12 years old. It’s only some 40 years later that I have seen it come to brutal fruition in the year of COVID.
Anti-maskers, anti-vaxxers, anti-matter and other antis have proven to me repeatedly that stupidity, probably like the Corona virus, is like a force of nature and as plentiful as oxygen. Likewise, it mutates and adapts almost as fast as Corona does.
Tap That Force
I’d like to know how we can harness and tap this force. Think of what we could do if we could control stupid energy, distill it and use it as an energy source. Screw oil, coal, natural gas and solar panels! And best of all, because stupid humans outnumber smart ones 7,799,999,943 to 17, it’s an almost limitless supply.
Come to think of it, it’s probably pretty easy to tap this stupid force. All you really need is a media outlet, people with smartphones or internet-enabled devices, and a lot of free time spent mostly trapped indoors.
Now how could I arrange that…? I bet if I developed a bio-weapon in a secret lab in a country under a dictatorial regime with evil global ambitions, I think I could pull this off.
What? It has been done already? Shit. [Note to readers: that last paragraph was for the stupid.]
Mentally stunned and emotionally stunted,
King Pho Khun Bang Klang Hao Druker
Bye Bye 2020
From the creators of Stanko & Tibor, we bring you a formal good riddance to the annus rottenus and give proper welcome to the new year. A year of transition, promise, and most likely questionable fashion choices.
You may notice I used the plural when I said “creators” — it’s partially because I want to make this online rag sound much bigger than it is. And partially because all the time I have spent alone and indoors has made me develop multiple personalities just so I could hold a conversation with someone other than myself. And maybe finally win that argument about which kind of danish is superior.
May your vaccination be painless and come quickly. And while you’re at it, have a few shots of booze or whatever makes you happy until it’s your turn.
Time for bed.
The other day I was unpacking the groceries, and contrary to habit, I decided to actually wash the veggies before I put them away so they’d be ready to eat. Suddenly, I felt I was being lied to. Let me explain before you go back to watching Netflix and/or swallowing hallucinogens.
As I unpacked the bunch of parsley (stop judging me, it goes well with potatoes) I realized that 50% of the delicious, leafy, green garnish was just stems. Just stems! I paid hard earned money and half of it was pretty useless. Then it dawned on me suddenly why this was so.
Obviously, it’s the Parsley Mafia who’s controlling what we get. Who else but a conniving bunch of greedy parsley power-brokers could pass off half a bunch as a whole bunch and make a tidy profit off the stuff. It’s degrading and insulting but do you really have the courage to defeat the parsley mafia? Not to mention their lobbyists and secret cabal at the United Nations. And don’t pretend like you don’t know, either. You’re all probably in on it anyway.
And it’s absurdist, small gene puddle, low-IQ, Republican thinking like that which led to the current state of the USA, right-wing populists across the globe, and present-day Russia. Not to mention people who think that wearing a mask somehow shows you’re giving in to a global conspiracy or surrendering your freedom.
Somehow, the people who aren’t wearing masks intentionally are rebels. Freedom fighters. Turns out they’re just colossal morons who do what they feel is right. (Click the link, it takes to you to the best line ever from the Simpsons.)
Annus Horribilis or Mirabilis
You know, I didn’t think 2020 could get much worse, what with COVID-19, and all the associated misery. Plus the unending violence in the USA, ever increasing global temperatures and my danishes are more expensive too. Granted it’s not as bad the great Erfurt Latrine Disaster of 1184 (thank you, Lars). Now that was a shit hole. But it has been tough for all of us. Except the rich. What’s new.
So much has changed in this past year, what with masks now being all the fashion rage. It just used to be bank robbers, Mummenschanz and terrorists who wore these symbols of airborne disease-limitation. Who knew that in addition to wreaking havoc and death (especially Mummenschanz) they were ahead of their time in disease prevention.
It has been not just a year of death and disease, but our language has changed too. We now write “Black” with a capital ‘B’ when referring to Black people, culture and community. Small ‘b’ when the word precedes the words ‘market’, ‘car’, ‘mask’ or ‘heart’ (e.g. ‘Anyone who supports Trump has a black heart.’).
Circa Six Feet or Two Meters
The point being it’s all insanity anyway and maybe in addition to wearing masks, we should all permanently stay approximately six feet (or two meters) away from ANYONE and EVERYONE even after they’ve found a cure for this COVID crap. Granted that would make changing diapers and having sexual relations difficult, but it’s up to some smart MIT dude to come up with a solution. How many marriages would be better off that way? Now you get it.
Now, it’s time for bed and bizarre dreams of nose swabs, sports with no fans, and less expensive danish.
Vladimir Guerrero Druker
I just read a scientific article (without moving my lips too much) on what may have been the worst year ever — 536 CE. Or AD if you prefer that abbreviation. According to these scientists — Trump devotees by default excluded because facts are involved — 536 was the worst year ever! Volcanic eruptions, freezing winters, no sun, failed crops, and perhaps worse, no TV or Netflix to get through it. Neither chocolate nor cinnamon danish had been invented yet. Times were literally and figuratively dark. A mask of misery had covered the globe.
I can only presume with little or no scientific evidence, and even less research because it’s too damn hot today, that people back then must have been freaking out. (Kind of like now, except we have Netflix and danish of various sorts.) The superstitious and uneducated masses, lacking any real guidance, must have run wild in the unpaved streets, begging for help, searching for any answers, and fearful of their neighbours (also, kind of like now). The many simple and few enlightened folk must have hid in their homes and hoped for the best and some kind of miracle to free them. (Also, kind of like now. Is it just me or does anyone see a trend?)
2020 vs 536
Many have said that 2020 is the worst year ever! Virus, death, racism, riots, an American election with two old white guys, China spying and running rampant over democracy, millions unemployed. The usual. But people have become very angry and vocal of late. [Note to reader: I am not suggesting people don’t protest. Quite the opposite, they should stand up to the entrenched powers that be. Or kneel. Or whatever gets some good media attention. It gives me great material to work with for the blog.] But at times it might be a little too emotional. Too in your face. Too much fomite-soaked anger blowing in the wind.
We could all really use some emotional masks.
I am not talking metaphorically here. Some smart person (Trump devotees by default excluded) is going to come up with some kind of mask that inhibits or in some way tempers our emotions.
My design, which was rejected by the patent office for using too many swear words and containing a selfie of me wearing nothing but a moose hat and slippers, is simple. It will look like your regular everyday mask you can buy at any of the major mask outlets (such as Musk’s Masks, Masks-R-Us, Masks, Flasks and Basques).
The difference is it will come with a 12oz (355 ml) container of liquid emotional modifier (read: booze) of your choice. To start, four kinds would be available: Scotch Whisky for the upscale set, Beer for the blue collar audience, cherry-flavoured schnapps for the rustic crowd, and Vodka for those who wish to keep their consumption discreet, but still not give a crap. At the start of your day, soak your mask before you go out. Or talk to anyone in your household. Repeat at lunch, coffee breaks, dinner and bedtimes. I’m not saying you have to drink the booze, just inhale the vapours until you’re giddy and a little sleepy maybe.
While there are other ways to tame our emotions, such as therapy, weed, pills, yoga, archery, wood-working, setting small fires, or playing strip poker, I say give your mask a shot. Of schnapps preferably.
Friar Druker of Snickerdoodle
Drinking COVID Away
My daughter just read me a recent Twitter quote regarding the recent manned flight to space: “Congrats to the astronauts who just left earth. Good choice.”
At least they have escaped the misery of COVID, the anti-Semitic conspiracy theorists, the riots resulting from the murder of yet another unarmed black person, and the rantings of Führer Trump for a while. What’s more, they did it without resorting what millions of Americans have done to cope with this misery — drinking vats of alcohol. To no one’s surprise, however, United Kingdom sales spiked to even higher liver-damaging levels. Just another excuse to get hammered.
Space Station Therapy
Let’s go back to those astronauts for a minute. Think about how desperate you have to be to risk life and limb, climbing aboard what is essentially a computer-guided roman candle to go live in a gravity-deprived, sterile, smelly space station where fresh baked chocolate danishes and artery-clogging burgers are difficult to come by unless you have good connections.
They could have easily drank themselves into a stupor to cope with this COVID conundrum. It’s way cheaper and less stressful than all of that astronaut training. Furthermore, drinking yourself stupid means you wouldn’t have to deal with that Elon Musk fellow crowing about his silly rocket that he claims is “so totally awesome.” I could build one of those rocket thingies with some duct tape, a ball of twine, a fork, peanut butter, pop-sickle sticks and paint thinner.
But no, they chose flight over fight. Actually, over drinking. Idiots.
So if I am left with a choice between going into space, where the WiFi signal is crap and the Netflix subscription hasn’t been renewed, and staying here and drinking myself into oblivion like most of the world seems to be doing, I may be at a loss.
But still, given my tremendous lack of knowledge about everything from aeronautics to zoology, I’d have to read like a zillion books, and that would mean spending all day and night at the library where the WiFi signal is crap.
Also, if one of you says “try meditation” again, I’ll tell you what I told that mouthy jerk of a police officer — drinking booze is a way easier method to relax and clear one’s mind. Or at least subdue it.
Clearly I am lacking the mental faculties needed to make a decision on how best to handle this situation. So I will do what I always do when confronted with questions of great importance and moral significance. I’ll watch Bugs Bunny and the Simpsons.
Arch Duke Druker of Suburbia
Did you know ginger contains a powerful enzyme called zingibain, which acts as a meat tenderizer? More importantly, do you even care? Of course not. It’s too hot and humid. How can anyone care about anything now except for lowering one’s body temperature to keep from snapping and killing a random passer-by, in order to sell his or her organs for cash so you can buy an air conditioner and some ice cream to bathe in?
This rant will likely be a little shorter than normal as I need to watch something to distract me from thinking of those things that trouble me. Oddly, that small-handed venal vendor Trump isn’t what’s keeping me up. I think watching baseball may be what the doctor, psychiatrist, parole officer and spiritual guide ordered to distract me.
Although I doubt the organ playing in the background at the baseball game will soothe and distract me. It’s meant to amp up the crowd with an ever escalating series of tones so the fans are frothing with anticipation at another player scratching his crotch. Why do they have organs at baseball and hockey games? Why not a live jazz orchestra? Or several mariachi bands? Tap-dancing harmonica players, maybe? Nope, someone chose organs as the musical instrument of choice to liven things up. At least it wasn’t a church organ.
If you haven’t clicked away by now, I stated previously that brevity is the organ of wit. Not the soul of wit, as the expression would have you believe. In the human body an organ is a group of tissues with similar functions, like a liver or kidneys or a brain.
Wit is roughly defined as being shrewd, perceptive, inventive, a natural aptitude for words. To be witty, you need some organs, like eyes, a brain, a tounge and most likely a heart. Basically something you can donate after you’re dead. Or if you’re enterprising, sell for a small profit on the internet to people with no morals or a soul.
Can you sell a soul? It’s hard as it doesn’t fit in any standard envelop or packaging that I know of. It also is fragile and bubble wrap doesn’t protect it well. Also, what are you going to do with a soul once you’ve bought it? Show it off at dinner parties? Brag about it at poker night? Wear it like jewellery? Organs are so much more tangible, and think of the points you’ll score at a singles mixer if you tell people you donated one recently. Make sure you have the scar AND the receipt to back it up if anyone asks. Trust me.
Now that I have consumed a mighty fine Dairy Queen sundae, it’s getting late. Good night.
Bartolomeo di Ebraico con Prosciutto