Real Parenting Conversations: Last Nerve

I arrived home last night to discover that my wife had retreated to the back room. Why? Because the boys had taken Secondborn's room, which we've been valiantly attempting to clean, and torn it completely apart. Scattered things around, pulled all the clothing bins out, broken at least one of them... They hadn't actually knocked over the furniture, but it still looked like a typhoon had hit the room. When I went to investigate, I couldn't even open Secondborn's door; two of the bins were wedged between it and the shelves. It would open far enough for the boys to squeeze in and out, but I had to get Firstborn to move some things before I could come in and help them clean up.

This led to the following conversation later in the evening:

Beautiful Woman: "Thank you for seeing that the boys had done me in."

Me: "Well, the look of abject despair on your face was a big clue."

Honestly, though, I hear people talk about how they have to work on their marriage, or how marriage takes a lot of effort, and I just... I kind of disagree. Your marriage shouldn't be one of your problems. Your marriage should be where you go to get help when you have problems. (That's true for friendships, too, and if you aren't married then you ought to be able to get help from your friends when you really need it; I don't mean to imply that marriage is the only way to do this.)

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: Afternoon PSAs

Attention, minions. The hunt for the monitor serpents has now been underway for approximately twenty straight hours. By my count, nearly half of you are either dead or incapacitated, and Medical is starting to... triage... anyone they can't fix immediately.

The escaped monitor serpents, meanwhile, have gone through at least four full generations. They are now smarter and more experienced at dealing with you. They have also developed legs, and arms with opposable thumbs - probably as a result of genetic pollution from eating so many of you. Twenty minutes ago, their leader contacted me by way of the intercom system. Since this shows more technical aptitude than some of you will ever possess, I have negotiated a truce with the Serpent Emperor.

As of now, we are no longer attempting to capture any of the escaped monitor serpents, regardless of their current level of evolution. The serpent people apparently regard the older generations of monitor serpents as honored ancestors. At this time, you may all consider yourselves on break. Food will be available in the cafeteria, and if any of the serpent people choose to eat with you then I expect you to treat them with the same respect that you do your co-workers.

That brings me to my next point: I have decided to replace you all with serpent people. Starting tomorrow morning, you may all consider yourselves terminated. After breakfast, I will provide transport back to the mainland. This offer will remain in effect until everyone is healed, cured, or revivified. If you wish to continue working here on Mad Science Island, you should visit Human Resources and fill out the proper application forms. You may use this an an opportunity to apply for a different job assignment, but be warned that you will almost certainly be interviewing against serpent people for some of those positions.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

9/11 a day late

I don't really have much to say about 9/11. I didn't when it happened; I never have since. By and large, I just don't talk about it, because this is one of those peculiar issues where my failure to have any sort of strong reaction is actually offensive to some people.

So instead of posting anything of my own, I'm going to link to a Cracked article on The Six Weirdest Things We've Learned Since 9/11. (Surely I'm not the only one who finds it disturbing that, in our post-9/11 world, our best reporting is done by people whose actual field is, at least ostensibly, comedy... That's not just me, right?)

"Hey, guys -- I'm starting to think we overreacted to the terrorism thing."

Notes from Mad Science Lab: Evening PSAs

Very well, minions. It seems I need to add some additional information, so take note.

The second stage is not the end of the monitor serpent's life cycle. If they are injured - if, hypothetically, you attempt to beat one to death as revenge for your friend - they will writhe around and give a very convincing impression of being in extreme pain.

That isn't pain. It's their second metamorphosis, and it doesn't involve a cocoon. When the changes are complete, the third-stage monitor serpent will shed its skin and emerge with a layer of scales that is quite capable of stopping small-arms fire. Its new teeth are not as large as they are on a stage-two serpent, but they are extremely sharp, and there are a lot of them. So if, hypothetically, you manage to provoke a monitor serpent into its third stage, odds are extremely good that it will... hypothetically... rip you apart and eat most of the pieces, thereby making it extremely difficult to determine which minion needs to be restored this time.

In addition, the third-stage serpent is now strong enough to gnaw its way out of a standard holding cell, escape the cryptozoo, and lose itself in the lab complex. Naturally, this is a situation that we would have... that we would prefer to avoid. This is especially true since, at this stage of their development, the monitor serpent is both fertile and hermaphroditic.

No, don't bother looking it up. It means that a single serpent can lay enough eggs to hatch dozens of new monitor serpents, which will also have to be caught and returned to the holding facility - preferably without injuring them and thus triggering another round of changes.

I expect to see everyone in the cafeteria for dinner, when we will determine the identity of any minions who might have been devoured. After that, we will form seek-and-capture squads to locate any specimens that might be missing from their pens.

Eat well, minions. It's going to be a long night.

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: Noon PSAs

Attention, minions.

Pursuant to my earlier announcement, it seems that some of you have noted that the second-stage monitor serpents are not eligible to be shipped to the client. That is true, but it does not make them fair game for your amusements.

I have already explained that second-stage monitor serpents are larger, stronger, and tougher than their first-stage counterparts. Once they've eaten, they continue to grow. If they've been in the second stage of their development long enough to grow fur, then they are more than strong enough to kill a grown man. So, if the consequences outlined in your New Minion Contracts are not sufficient to deter you from interfering with the experiments, you might want to consider your own safety instead.

On a related note, former cryptozoo technician Samson will be rejoining you tomorrow, once the medical staff finishes restoring him to his new cloned body. I hope he enjoys his new position on the janitorial staff.

Notes from the Mad Science Lab: Morning PSAs

Good morning, minions. The time has come for today's announcements, so please pay attention. This information might very well save your life.

It has come to my attention that some of you have been tormenting the monitor serpents just to watch them metamorphose.

Knock. It. Off.

Yes, the larval form of the monitor serpent is kind of cute, with those big eyes and the strange little bat-ears. And yes, if you knock them around a bit, they quit squealing at you, coil themselves up, and secrete their cocoons. I realize this must be fascinating to watch; no doubt you are overwhelmed with awe at the sight of the biological marvel that I have created.

Unfortunately for those of you engaged in this... pastime... the monitor serpents emerge from their cocoons larger, faster, tougher... and starving. Several of you have lost fingers and toes, and in one memorable case, an entire nose and both ears. The rest of you should learn from their example, and do otherwise.

Leave the monitor serpents alone. In addition to what your interference is costing us in medical services and lost work hours, you're delaying their shipment to the woman who commissioned them - a woman, I might add, who is paying us a very great deal of money to create these beasts. This is unacceptable, and anyone caught handling the monitor serpents without express orders to do so will face penalties.

I trust I won't have to repeat myself on this.

Amish Avatar Music?

So, right, music for this morning:

The Guild - Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?


More silliness below the cut: