Reflections on Boredom

Sorry for skipping out on last week. It was busy - very busy - but there really wasn't much worth remarking on. With the Corpsewalker gone, we're back to general Watching, mostly of our own people. I'm fine with that, but obviously there isn't much I can say about it without violating my oaths. So it's been busy but boring.

I did check on Claire's parents, which was more embarrassing than I expected. Oh, they weren't doing anything private; it's just that her mom spotted me somehow. At least, she met my eyes and waved. So I waved back, and dropped the... um... connection.

And that's really the most interesting thing that happened. It's nice when things are boring, at least some of the time.

Reflections of a Deranged Cultist is a work of fiction. There is absolutely no reason for law enforcement at any level to take an interest in me.

Still more weird dreams

Okay, so there are zombies everywhere, and we're gathering the survivors inside a building where they'll be safe. Except there are still a few zombies in the building, and I end up trying to dispatch one of them with a bokken (wooden practice sword). I'm mostly successful, in that I manage to get the thing beaten down, but while I'm trying to, um, destroy the brain... the sword breaks.

So, I go back to my area to get a real sword, with a steel blade. Only when I get there I find myself in the middle of a conversation between Satan and Batman, over the contents of Satan's pouch (or purse? or something?). Apparently Batman wants a particular kind of crystal bead that's in there. Satan is claiming he doesn't have any, but of course he does - and Batman knows it.

And I never did get to go back and finish that zombie. I'm still frustrated about that. Stupid alarm clock...

Reflections on Violence

So there we were, having a night out on Sixth Street, when I noticed... No, I'd better start a little earlier than that. There I was, working in the Pharmacy, when Kevin (not his real name, obviously) came in. He didn't act like he knew me, so I didn't "notice" him, either. But I knew him, from one of the family get-togethers a while back.

Oh, right, sorry. This is Claire. I'm just borrowing my boyfriend's computer to hack into that blog he uses when he talks about his life. I was just thinking about that night, so I thought I'd sit down and write out my impressions. And since I know my boyfriend will want to see them, and the rest of you might be curious, I figured I'd put them here, too.

So, anyway, Kevin. He was a distant cousin of mine, and the family sent him to check up on us. I'd been dating my boyfriend for a while at that point, and I was starting to think that maybe he didn't know that I was anything other than an ordinary girl. Plus, I was... well, I was getting attached to him. So I'd quit telling them about what he was doing, or how he was treating me, or much of anything, really. Looking back, that was kind of stupid. I'm sure they thought he was trying to recruit me.

So we're out on Sixth Street, and Kevin is following us, and all of a sudden these two guys attack him. My boyfriend called them the twins, because they looked alike, and says he doesn't know anything about them - and that his people don't know them, either. I believe him, partly because back when he wrote that he didn't expect me to ever find it, let alone read it... and partly because the way he reacted at the time looked like he was genuinely freaked out by the fight... but mainly because I trust him.

Whoever they were, they beat Kevin to death. So, looking back again, it's no wonder my family thought that my boyfriend's people were out to get us. It's also no wonder that they quit talking to me around that time; they weren't sure if I could still be trusted. That was why I didn't do more to protect my boyfriend; it took me a while to realize that there was a war on. I did what I could, as soon as I realized, but by then my family couldn't trust me... and just about the time I managed to explain things and start figuring out how to salvage the situation, my boyfriend caught me talking to the same cousins who had tried to kill him.

I guess I should count my blessings. That could have turned out sooooo much worse than it did.

But I don't know who the twins were, either. Still. And that's after asking around the family.

And that bothers me. A lot.

Reflections of a Deranged Cultist isn't true, so nobody has to worry about strange cults or people with the blood of snakes here in the real world.

And now my sinuses are trying to kill me...

Anybody got a hand drill? I need to use it on my forehead. Seriously, I don't know what's in the air right now (well, actually, I sort of do - a chemical plant caught fire near Waxahachie yesterday), but my sinuses are actively trying to kill me.

It seemed like a good idea at the time...

And now I take requests from the search logs

Time for a quick question-and-answer session, for the benefit of those poor souls who were reduced to searching online for the answers to life's difficult questions. Today we'll be addressing two important issues:

1. How to explain the Zombie Apocalypse to parents

First of all, I'm a little worried about this. I mean, I'm a parent, and I already know about the coming Zombie Apocalypse. So does my wife. In fact, we're usually the ones trying to explain it to other people.

But we're parents with young children, and not everyone is in our particular stage of life. I suppose it's possible that grown men and women might find it difficult to explain the impending arrival of the Walking Plague to their parents, who - being of an earlier generation - might have grown up thinking that the dead would only rise when Gabriel sounds his trump to announce the Last Judgement. They might be wholly unaware of the Cambodian "zombie" outbreak (caused by a new strain of Malaria), especially since the original article is no longer available. (Government cover-up, much?) And in that case, I suppose that, yes, they might find it a bit difficult to understand why they need to prepare for survival in a world overrun with hordes of the hungry dead.

Still, the basic concept isn't that hard to explain. I mean, the zombie rises from the dead and bites someone. The person who just got bitten turns into a zombie, and then bites other people. Those people all turn into zombies, who go out and bite even more people, and the next thing you know, human civilization has come to an abrupt and messy end. Either you're ready to survive, or you're part of the problem - the shambling, moaning, flesh-hungry problem.

So here's my advice:
First off, use visual aids. Halloween is almost here, and it's not like there's any shortage of zombie films around. Invite your parents over for a "Scary Movie Night" and watch one. Any of the classic Romero films are good, but if that's more than your parents are willing to watch you could try Zombieland instead. Not only is it a lighter take on the coming apocalypse, it's full of useful safety tips. Then, when the movie is over, switch off the television, turn to your parents, and explain: "Now, when this happens, we'll need to be ready..."

They'll probably listen. Nobody wants to be zombie food, after all.

2. How To Tell If Your Velociraptor Is Having Pre-Marital-Sex
Okay, look. I know it's not easy being a parent. I mean, you watch the kid hatch, you get those wonderful moments where they stare at you adoringly with those big saurian eyes. You do your best to raise the child right, you make sure they have enough food to grow big and strong, you try to get them a good education - or at least teach them how to hunt for themselves.

But then they get older. They start hanging out with 'raptors from different packs, kids you don't know or don't approve of. Or maybe they've gone even farther afield; maybe now they're spending their time with that T-rex down the street. And they get cranky - threatening to rip your guts out if you try to set a curfew, little things like that. It's perfectly natural for you, the parent, to start wondering what else they might be doing. After all, you can't be with them all the time.

Don't panic. There are some things you can look for.

First of all, is your velociraptor still wearing his or her purity ring? If so, you're probably safe - no matter how far they've backslidden or how wild their behavior has gotten, no young raptor would ever have sex while wearing their ring.

Unfortunately, there is a very slight chance that they might take the ring off, have sex, and put it back on afterwards. If you're suspicious, examine the purity ring itself. Does it show the sorts of dents and scratches that come from trying to remove jewelry using claws designed to tear into your hapless prey? If the marks are there, then your sweet little baby is probably having pre-marital sex.

But what if your child doesn't have a purity ring? Speaking frankly, if that's the case then your parenting is definitely part of the problem. Oh, sure, the "experts" will tell you all about building trust, talking to your children, and letting them make their own choices. Who's giving you this advice? Dr. Grat is an apatosaurus, Professor Loyork is a triceratops, and that talk show host Miss Lowrrr is a stegosaurus. Look, I'm not prejudiced, but every single one of them is a herbivore.

So maybe that sort of approach works for them and their plant-eating children. Believe me, if you're trying to raise a velociraptor, you can't afford to think that way. That sort of soft, touchy-feely approach leads to teenage rebellion, loose morals, pre-marital dinosaur sex, and eventually the extinction of our entire way of life with a massive meteor impact. Don't let that happen! Get your little 'raptors to a church, get their tails in the pews, make 'em take the pledge, and slap a purity ring on those lovely clawed fingers. Your hatchling's future happiness depends on it!

From the seach logs...

I don't get a huge amount of traffic. It's tragic, I know, but it's true. It's also not entirely unexpected; I write mainly to amuse myself, and because I enjoy writing. Since I have no particular theme - aside from, y'know, "This Is What Wandered Into My Brain" - and since I tend to put entries up without a great deal of proofreading or revision, I don't really expect to attract a huge and devoted following. Quite the opposite, in fact: I'm pleasantly surprised by the number of people who do read, and sometimes comment.

So I'm always interested in what brings people here, especially the folks who presumably aren't regular readers. Most of the time it's nothing special - I get a small but steady number of hits related to people searching for information on the Carmelite Hotel phishing scam, for example. Other hits are quirkier, but not especially surprising given the sorts of things I write about: people have landed on the blog while doing searches for "holiday horror movies", say, or "dreams about alien invasion". Variations on the theme of "creepy metaphors" show up regularly.

And, of course, I get the occasional hit from someone looking for information on the process of deconversion, or evangelizing to unbelievers, or things like that. Which is fine; the Blog o' Doom isn't an in-depth resource for such things, but I think that the information I do have is worthwhile.

Every once in a while, though, I get hits from some search terms that would never have occurred to me. In the past week, for example, I've had someone search for "Gofulu Cthulhu" - apparently it's a popular misspelling? - and, on a related note, "why do people spell cthulhu different".

This is funny to me. (The answer, by the way, is that "Cthulhu" is an approximate phonetic rendering of a name which was never meant to be pronounced by human speech organs. So if the person who was doing that search stops back by, well... now you know.)

Those weren't the best ones, though. The best searches were the ones that, well, put it this way: not only would I not have expected anyone to find my blog this way, I wouldn't have expected anyone to ever search for this. There are two of those from the last week's logs:
1. how to explain the zombie apocalypse to parents
2. how to tell if your velociraptor is having pre marital sex

I just... thought I'd share that.

The Cell Phone Bible, Part VIII

Idea courtesy of apostate, who found the 'What if...?' text in his Facebook feed. If you're coming in late, you can start at Part I.

VIII. The Nature of Human Adaptability
The Archangel Gabriel turned his attention to the image in front of him. What was ordinarily a blank rectangle - a frame without a picture - assumed light and life, color and depth, and finally movement. He was looking at another mortal, not so different to his eyes from all the others he had spoken with. This one had pale skin and silver hair, was located in North America, and had opened a Bible.

"Jonathan," said the Archangel, by way of greeting. "You need guidance?"

"Well, no," said the mortal. He was looking at his Bible, as if he could read its expression. "I need you to get in touch with my daughter, Fiona. She forgot her uniform this morning, and she'll need it for practice. I'd call her myself, but she also forgot her cell phone."

Gabriel considered this, for a period of not-exactly-time which the mortal would never perceive. Beside him, Uriel was guiding a French policeman to the home of a murder suspect. On his other side, Isda was directing an African girl to the nearest United Nations relief effort, where she could find food - a distance of just over one hundred and fifty miles, which would doubtless prove longer on foot. Behind him, Anael was explaining to a disconsolate fifteen-year-old in Estonia that love should always be something to live for, and never a thing to die for.

"You want me to contact your daughter... about her uniform?" Gabriel let the question hang, expecting the man to realize just how petty a reason this was to occupy Heaven's attention, and just how arrogant he was to ask favors of the angels.

"Look, I know you can do it. You call people all the time. I've heard Bibles ringing myself. Just call her and let her know, would you? She'll have her Bible with her. She's been carrying it around ever since you people started talking."

Gabriel considered his options. He could simply refuse. After all, this business of speaking to mortals directly through their Bibles was simply a ritualized version of prayer; and while prayers never went unanswered, very frequently the answer was no. He could simply disconnect, closing the Bible and severing the contact. In either case, though, the mortal seemed very likely to try again. Heaven's Call Center was busy enough already; it didn't need that. Then too, Jesus had exhorted the angels to help the mortals wherever they could - barring direct intervention, of course. After all, if the angels couldn't answer their questions, where else might mortals turn? Gabriel had no doubt that Satan had introduced his own, competing system just as soon as Heaven's work became known to him.

He realized that the mortal was still talking: "...will only take a minute, and this is important. She only has three more practices before tryouts, so missing this could cost her a place on the team."

For a brief moment, the Archangel's hand dropped to the horn at his belt. The man had no sense of perspective. None. And none of his fellows did, either - if they did, they'd be working together instead of fighting all the time. It would serve them right if he sounded his trumpet...

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Not yet," said Jesus quietly. "They're still learning. And the time has not yet come."

"So what do I tell him?" Gabriel gestured at the image before him, a portrait of a man growing impatient with the divine.

Jesus smiled at him, and suddenly the archangel Gabriel knew exactly what to say.

"Jonathan," said Gabriel, cutting the mortal off in mid-exhortation. He had to; the man wasn't going to shut up on his own. "Has it ever occurred to you that if a place on the team was that important to your daughter, she would have remembered her uniform? I know you want that for her, but has it occurred to you to wonder if she wants that for herself?"

"She's fifteen," the mortal responded. "She doesn't know what she wants for herself."

"...But she wants a chance to find out," finished Gabriel. "Also... next year, in about sixteen months, when she's pregnant...?"

The mortal made a choking noise and reached for his Bible as if to shake it. "Wha-?"

"...Just remember that it isn't about you, will you? She really will have thought that she was in love. The best thing you can do is be there for her. Let her make her own decision about what to do."

And with that, Gabriel blanked the image and severed his connection.