I Want to Own an Aviary (repost)

I WANT TO OWN AN AVIARY
by Count Langenhoffen (originally posted February 2006)

An Aviary (capitalized because I would own it, and everything I own instantly accords capitalization) is a large enclosure filled with trees and such for the purpose of enclosing birds. You've seen aviaries in such blockbuster classics as Jurassic Park 3 (dazzlingly directed by Joe Johnston, between October Sky and Hidalgo) and The Haunting (which features a pre-celebrity Owen Wilson decapitated by a haunted fireplace[seriously]). So essentially the birds think they can fly through the webbed steel forming the aviary, but it turns out that steel reacts to birds the same way it does to everything else; they hit it, fall, and usually die. BUT, as Darwin taught us, the next generation of birds will know how the system works, and shall obey it unflaggingly, and so they become the living attraction of said Aviary.

Now, my Aviary will be different. First of all, it'll be fucking enormous; not because the birds need room to fly, but because I'm a big guy. In fact, my Aviary will be devoid of those dirty ornithological rats, and if birds end up in my Aviary, it's entirely coincidental. And as soon as you walk into my Aviary you'll be confronted by some kind of spike or boulder trap; notice I use "you," since I would never fall victim to one of my own traps. If you make it past the trap(s?), you'll notice the air is pungent with a tenebrous pall, due in large part to the still black pond to your right and the cobwebbed man-sized iron cages squeaking longingly towards the floor which are numerous and hanging from the roof on long, ancient chains. Spiders are rampant, of course, though not so many so as to draw your attention too much from an omnidirectional moan permeating the wispy white fog. There's some wilting shrubbery that's not been clipped for years, but its plainly obvious they were shorn to resemble souls writhing in the fires of Hell. Twisted trunks of half-dead trees litter the place haphazardly, and there's an exhausted cherry blossom, too (for contrast by juxtaposition). This is obviously just to create the mood for my Aviary, so that the next door neighbor's kids feel compelled to explore it. Then, once inside, they'd be trapped and thusly forced to serve me (not sexually) until their premature death or they embark as a group on a dangerous quest for a pirate ship full of gold hidden in a secret cave within the sewers of the town. If none of the kid's are Asian, then they won't have the quest option, since no one can convincingly yell, "Booby traps!"

Now, being a business-minded person, the logistics of maintaining such an aviary requires some serious rumination. First, there's manpower. Simple solution here: Pay some poor Polish countrymen to immigrate over and maintain my Aviary (I wouldn't use "Aviary" in the Warsaw newspaper ad so as not to stir suspicion). Their rudimentary belief in the spirits of the Old Country would surely remain lit as they torment and toil in my hellish Aviary. And while they toil and cry out at spirits nonexistent, they'd come to me begging to allow their indenture to end. I, of course, would grow to twice my size and cackle ghoulishly at their simple beliefs and hilarious terror. I might allow them put a bird in my Aviary if they agree to stop being fed, but the odds that they learn conversationl English are slim to none since the grand expenditures needed for the Aviary would prevent me from being able to afford Rosetta Stone.

Another important logistical consideration is making sure the Poles and trapped children remain motivated to work, so once in awhile I'd release into the Aviary a pack of hounds or a swarm of locusts. I might also release one of those badass string-tripped swinging log traps that did in the Predator, and I think also may have taken care of Benicio's character in the cinematic feast that is The Hunted.

If the INS gets too hot on my Aviary, I'd just cover it with a tarp whenever they came by looking for missing children and Poles. If they ask what's under the tarp I'd probably just make the whole damn thing send itself into another dimension, and then flash back into our realm when no one's looking.

What's most important for an Aviary is, of course, having a secret room where you crossbreed various hapless animals via torture. There'd be bunny rabbits, little kittens, cuddly otters, happy dolphins, chatty parrots (since they can talk), and tasty chickens (in the form of buffalo wings in the freezer), and also for good measure there'd be a couple of random beating cows' hearts connected to more electrodes than seems necessary. In this room I'd also pay Edgar Allen Poe's great grandson to sit in a tall black chair and read aloud The Telltale Heart and The Raven at odd temporal intervals. Once the creatures I manifest are ready to unleash doom upon the world I'd make sure they go straight for the places of worship, just to fuck with everyone's psyche.

One last item, let's throw in some gargantuan pterodactyls with lasers attached to their shoulders like those Dinobots.

I feel that building from this simple Aviary template, I'll have countless hours of entertainment to tide me over until my battleship is complete.

February Spites East, Prepares Impassioned Exit

In a move described by weather policy experts as puzzling and exasperating, February has signaled its general dislike for both the people of the East Coast and the month of March in its declaration of a warm weather embargo to conclude its annual rotation in the weather presidency.

"It's a general 'Fuck all of you'", says Robert Straus, an expert in foreign weather policy at the University of Colorado's Center for Atmospheric Research.

Straus is not alone in his assessment of February's brusque behavior. Conditions seemed to be warming between the rogue month and the people of the East Coast for several weeks, bringing higher temperatures and brighter spirits across the land. "Easterners who were led to believe the harsh winter cold was in a welcome recession are now left wondering what happened as they grab for their down jackets, scarves, and little colorfully patterned rubber boots that I guess they buy at Urban Outfitters."

Some speculate that February is again using its position as a bridge month between much-reviled winter and favored spring to gain leverage with the international weather community after a particularly unfruitful meeting of the G12. February is believed to have lured in half the country with a delightful warm spell, only to lash out in a childishly retributive manner to bring much-desired attention on its supposed plight. "February has long wished to use the arctic blast weapon to convince the 12-member governing body that its allocation of 28 or 29 days is unfair and moreover, bizarre" believes James Ogden, the U.S. Deputy Ambassador to the UN Special Commission for Clouds, Rain, and Grey Skies.

But Straus doesn't think it's that simple. "Why now?" asks Straus. "If this is the feared arctic blast weapon then where's Jake Gyllenhaal and those crazy ice wolves everybody predicted?" Straus favors engagement with February, noting that as the month warmed, the public began to write it off and take its unusually pleasant weather for granted. "I think this really pissed February off. It didn't have to be nice outside on the weekends. It could have been a blustery hell, as February always is, with crazy ice wolves lurking around every corner."

There may be some truth in that. As January's annual reign of terror came to a close, relations between the neighbors were frosty, at best. At a temperature-fixing summit in Kathmandu, Nepal, January delivered a scathing polemic to February for its cozy relationship with March, a month considered to be partly aligned with the centrist Spring bloc. January, long the hard-line member of the G12, was likely lambasting February for its decision not to support January's Joint Resolution To Act In Accordance With The Groundhog Day Proclamation, thus depriving it of the needed supermajority.

"I really don't think the public understood what February had given up to leave January...out in the cold. I'm not particularly surprised this happened, particularly considering the potential for puns" says Frank Case, a former national climate and weather security adviser to President Clinton.

Additionally, while much of the attention has been paid to February's drastic actions and its affect on the East, little mind has been paid to February's other immediate neighbor, March. The enigmatic month has been conspicuous in its denunciations of February's measures. Enraged at its stained reputation as it is forced to swallow a massive cold front and late-winter snow and ice squall pushing eastward across the Midwest just as it begins its term, March has threatened to cut off diplomatic ties with February. "It's just what we need, a more disjointed, confusing transition of power from February---a month with a variable number of days---and March---a month symbolized by two completely opposite animals, the lion and the lamb," says Straus.

February, at least, for its part, is not so pessimistic. While senior officials could not be reached for comment, a high-level source within the month's government tell End The Cola Wars Digest that the reasons for the row came down to the economy. According to the source, February receives covert netback revenues from the natural gas and power industries. Given the presumed state of the month's treasury (it does not release official figures), it comes as little surprise that it has chosen to turn the screws on the public in a bid to shore up domestic reserves. "February has no real economy of its own when it comes down to it," says Case," it's essentially a middleman between the prolific cold exporter January and Ides-heavy March; February's' just a broker."

How the breakdown in relations between February and January and the general public in the future remains to be seen, but cracks have already started appearing in February's grip on state control. "I've about had it with this damn month," proclaims Mary Radabaf, a manager at a Washington area Haagen Dazs. "Every time you think February's had enough, it turns out you were wrong, and it's cold as shit all over again." Sentiments among the public do not stray far from Ms. Radabaf's harsh remarks. A Pew poll on the 25th showed that 95% of people disagreed strongly with February's handling of its rotating presidency; the remaining 5% of people indicated to the pollster that they hadn't left their residences since September ended.

Ogden is more pointed: "We're looking at a possible paradigm shift in the whole world order. Blizzards in July, heat waves in November, fall in April, and frogs in May. The whole system could be on the brink of collapse."

There may still be some hope, believes Case. "With such opposition from all fronts, it might be difficult for February to continue to isolate itself. February's unexpected cold tantrum will really damage its ability to influence the annual two straight weeks of misty drizzle, this year planned for late May."

August could not be reached for comment.

Brice Lord reporting from Los Angeles.

Brice Lord sighting?

A contemporary of mine alerted me to a possible Brice Lord sighting at an anonymous Holiday Sweater Party on 12/13. Well, I guess it isn't anonymous if it's capitalized. The Brice Lord candidate seems to have been seen and noted by an amorous 25-year old woman at said Holiday Sweater Party who then posted this missed connection ("naughty or nice") on Craig's List 6 days later; the 6-day delay was likely put to good use in developing the playfully suggestive post (e.g. "you looking for a mrs. claus, mr. claus? hit me up and we can spread a little holiday cheer..."). Apparently the enamored saw Brice Lord's likeness on "an acquaintances' photos on facebook" and decided to act on this particularly productive and fortuitous episode of stalking.

Unfortunately for Brice Lord proper---that is, the real Brice Lord---he was not at the Holiday Sweater Party but instead dutifully studying for final exams that evening, so the gentleman with dashing good looks, brand new Nike kicks, a fitted olive green faux-WWII-era military issue shirt, a questionable black and yellow scarf, what looks like half a knit beanie, and proportionally large hands gently grasping a solo cup filled with jungle juice as if it were a snifter of cognac is not, alas, Brice Lord. It should also be noted to the readership, and to the lascivious Mrs. Claus, that Brice Lord is exceedingly homosexual, so in actuality, were Brice Lord even at this party---and if he were he would probably dress quite similarly---he would be surveying the "m4m" section later that week instead.

Cold

I'm on DayQuil right now, and life is, for the moment, unconcerning and surrounded by fuzz.

I caught a cold somewhere in Utah probably. Now I'm enjoying self-medication. Last time I said something like this I ended up in the hospital after taking Vicoprofen and passing out at work...but caution be damned! God Bless the benevolent alchemists at Vick's Co.; may their bells ring stridently for the lives of a thousand Suns.

New Study Proves Liberal-minded People are Easily Fooled

A new study linking liberalism and gullibility is bound to find favor with conservatives but rouse the liberal base.

The research, conducted by Dr. Brice Lord, M.D., Esq., Ph.D., LLM, M.S.E.E. of the Cola War Memorial Institute for Social, Political, and Flavor Studies (CWMISPFS), finds a strong correlation between liberal-minded individuals and the degree to which they succumb to deception and guile. He explained that further study will not be needed since the results are perfectly definitive.

Dr. Lord began by polling what Dr. Lord calls "a blind, representative superset" of readers on his personal blog. This began with a seemingly insignificant question requesting his readers' political tilt. After gathering responses from over 8 individuals, he next posted a poll whose goal was to trick readers into admitting their ease of manipulation. Out of more than 13 people who took the second poll, over 71.42% of people honestly registered their submission to Dr. Lord's artful deception. After analyzing and comparing data from the two supersets, Lord was able to produce the results he was looking for.

Dr. Lord explains the results to two victims of his research.

What he discovered Dr. Lord describes as "a shocking presupposition solidly confirmed with uncorrupted scientificy." He adds that "the data is so unbelievably statistically significant I guarantee you've never seen anything like it." Lord found that, by water weight, the majority of liberals fell for his linguistic chicanery whereas the sole conservative poll-taker "mostly pretty likely" didn't fall for it. He added that the write-in populist/anarchist seemed particularly susceptible to "manipulation by the liberal machine."

Lord isn't jumping to any conclusions, however. "I isn't jumping to any conclusions", Lord states, but he does believe the study should be worrisome to the left. "If I was proved beyond a doubt to be ridiculously gullible and unattractive I'd probably be pretty careful from here on out." Lord recommends that concerned liberals may want to consider "watching fair and balanced news programs like Fox News and maybe change shampoos," but stresses that this goes beyond the statistical relevance of his research.

A CWMISPFS scientist researches the transparency of glass objects and liberal bias.

While the Freemen, Montana-based CWMISPFS continues "research-as-usual"---a phrase emboldened on the stock of the 20-foot solid bronze statue of a Winchester rifle outside the research compound---a public backlash has begun to stir back in Washington.

Critics have complained that Lord's methods have not been properly vetted in other studies, and that results need to be refabricated in order to verify his conclusions. MoveOn.org complained that shampoos such as Garnier Fructis are too expensive for the average worker, and that a government program should be created to help the lower classes "Take Care" of their hair. MoveOn and Barbara Boxer, D-CA, are co-sponsoring the Clean The Hair Act in hopes to advance the legislation.

Others have even questioned Dr. Lord's motives, claiming that he's merely a conservative shill and a gun-toting fanboy. In a recent press conference, Lord rebuffed this criticism directly, stating that he's "gun-wielding" rather than gun-toting, a difference his critics seem not to fully appreciate.

In fact, Lord has been positively linked to the right-wing MoveAlong.org, which casts some doubt on his research. During a recent interview, Lord was asked whether his research may have been funded by politically-motivated private interests, to which he responded tacitly, "Maybe ... I'm a fucking scientist, not an accountant... Yes, I do have gum, in fact, but it's Big Red; is that okay, do you like cinnamon?"

Dr. Brice Lord can bench press 500 pounds.

Dr. Lord showing off at Muscle Beach, California.

busy week = mind melt

As the title implies, I've been pretty busy at work. My work isn't interesting to read about---or anyone's work for that matter, unless you're Batman---so i'll spare you...for now. Random thought, but what in the hell ever happened to Pacey from Dawson's Creek? I'm not sure what his name was (past tense is indeed appropriate here), but the last movie I remember him being in was The Skulls, which I think came out in 2001. I wonder what's worse, being a jobless Dawson graduate (Pacey) or being a jobless Dawson graduate AND having your career driven into a ravine and being impregnated by a inculcating madman (Holmes). I guess I answered my own question. If you can't tell from the sharp rise in multisyllabic words I've been using lately, I've been studying for the GRE and putting a lot of time (read: 2 hours per week) in what I call WordBlasting. WordBlasting is where you take a list of several hundred words, intravenously-introduced Peruvian blue cocaine, 7 minutes, and a cool, damp cloth. It works wonders, believe me. I'm planning on asking for my $565 back from the USDA Grad School where I took test prep classes recently. The only problem is that I tend to pass out for about 6 hours after WordBlasting, but when I wake up, boy do I know my vocabulary. Sure, I'm usually bleeding from one ear and have a mysterious amount of change in my pockets when I come around, but it's imperative that I improve my GRE English score. I mean, it's not just because I need to do well on the GRE, who doesn't need to know words like "prolix" and "interregnum?" I can't tell you how many times Tony Cornheiser has described The USC Trojans' uniforms as "incarnadine," and Anderson Cooper has referred to Iran's nuclear program as "sub rosa." MathBlasting is a little different because it tends to involve things like the quadratic formula and the rhombus. These godless machinations require artful square root signs and articulated spatial relations skills, so I have to make sure my head's a little clearer. Nothing's worse than dropping blotter acid while MathBlasting and winding up with two parallel lines shooting straight out of my chest. Want to know the 12th power of 2? It's 4,096. What about the hypotenuse of a triangle whose legs are 9 and 40? It's 41. Do you know how I know that? Because I have to for the GRE, and because I get emails all the time from ETCW! fans demanding that I make simple calculations in my head for them. I don't get it either, but that's how useful all of this is in real life. No matter how much drugs I do, nothing can prepare me for the two essay questions, one of which fools me every time with deceptively cogent logic like, "Garyville is a small town with a big factory. Because it has a big factory, it absolutely must have a man who owns a saddle. Unicorns don't allow men with saddles to ride them, so it is unquestionable that no unicorns own more than 1 acre of property in Chuckton, the town 10 miles down the road from Garyville." Honestly, for the life of me, I just am unable to identify the logical flaws in that argument. By the way, have you ever wondered what would happen if you secretly walked up behind someone at their computer in your office and blew an airhorn? Or threw a brick at their head? That would make for some good, incarcerative YouTube. I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that someone keeps stealing my staple remover? I'd staple it down to my desk, but then how would I get it off? I bet Confucius wondered the same thing at some point. Actually, I bet he didn't, not because there was no such thing as a staple remover back then, but because I'm way smarter than he will ever be. "Man with hand in pocket not always playing with coin." What the fuck Confucius? You fucking pervert. I'd better lock up my daughters around you. Wait, maybe this has something to do with why I always end up with coins in my pocket when WordBlasting... uh-oh.