squeam

hidden due to disturbing content.

this morning, i got to church early for service. on the footpath leading from the parking lot ot the church office there lay a dead mouse. and it wasn't just a mouse who had a very good night and died of a heart attack. this mouse would've been cute (as mice tend to be) had it not been for the unfortunate decapitation. now decapitation creeps me out the usual amount, but only if it is clean, insofar as getting your cappa detated is ever clean. the head was not cut off, it was torn off. about a third of the mouse's back skin was shorn from the musculature. if its head was on proper, it would have been face down in a pool of its own blood. i did not take a picture.

anyway. since it was early, i felt it was necessary to dispose of the body prior to kids arriving. now i generally love fuzzy animals, so seeing a dead mouse is no fun. seeing anything dead is no fun. seeing a dead fuzzy something that's showing inside bits is the least fun of all. i saw a dead raccoon behind the church office 'garage' once; it was slightly disemboweled and totally rigor mortised. i ran away like a freaked-out leperchaun.

it took me 3 minutes of staring at it to commit to cleaning it up. i went into the kitchen to search for possibly helpful supplies, preferrably things that would prevent me from making direct contact with the body. i found some work gloves that Art normally uses to mess around with the fire pits. i found a ziploc sandwich bag that looked big enough to hold and seal the corpse. i went back outside to grab a small branch so that i would not have to make contact with the gloves.

i put the gloves on and flipped the sandwich bag inside-out over my left hand. stick in hand, i stood over the poor little thing and spent 6 minutes screwing up the courage to proceed. i formed a pocket with the bag on my hand and positioned it behind the mouse, spreading my fingers wide so that i wouldn't actually have to even feel the body. i lifted the rear of the mouse with the stick and shifted it halfway into the bag. the front stuck to the sidewalk a bit because the blood had congealed. at this point i noticed that the head was still intact and had its eyes been open it would've been looking at me. fully committed, i torqued the body fully into the bag and quickly flipped it to hold the mouse on the inside. then i dropped the bag and silently squealed and skipped away (like a freaked-out leperchaun).

after i had composed myself, i picked up the bag, sealed it and dropped it into the dumpster. the stick i chucked away. back at the sidewalk, i pulled up the hose and sprayed away as much of the blood that i could. there were two patches: one was the original point of attack and the other was the final resting spot of the body. and that was how i started my day.

shanshu

at the beginning of the month, two of my aunts (and one aunt's husband) flew over from Sydney and Hong Kong to visit for a good number of weeks. my grandparents deliberately delayed their 60th anniversary dinner to include them. that sunday night, a few excommunicated family members also attended, so it was nice to see them again even though it was a bit tense.

a day after the party, my grandmother began to feel increasingly fatigued and listless. on thursday (June 7) morning, it had gotten to the point that we had to cart her over to the hospital where she would need to stay overnight for observation. i had a day off from volunteering, so i stayed home with my grandfather to field phone calls and so on. i visited her later that evening; she was sleeping. at around 2 am, my mom woke me up briefly to let me know that they were heading back out to the hospital because they had received word that my grandmother's breathing had dipped to less than 50%.

the next morning, i came down for breakfast with the visiting aunts and uncle before driving myself to St. Florence. after school, i checked in with my dad to see if i needed to pick up sherm; i had to wait around STC for an hour or so because he finished later. so i killed some time at Best Buy after taking a round of the mall. when sherm called to let me know he was at Kennedy Station, i tried to go back outside to cross the street to the mall parking lots. my way was barred by what seemed to be a tropical storm, with rain blowing all the way into the store past two sets of doors. i waited until the storm let up a bit before loping off to Wal-Mart to pick up my brother.

in the car, sherman talks a lot. in the course of his one-sided conversation, he mentioned something about our grandmother passing away. it appears i had gone the entire day without anyone telling me that she had died in her sleep that morning. i had surmised as much at breakfast, but nobody actually confirmed it until then.

the weekend was a bit of a blur on account of all the hustle and bustle of relatives going in and out, making arrangements, having vegetarian meals (as per Buddhist instruction) and playing two double-headers of softball.

on monday, i was back at school.

tuesday was the Buddhist death ceremony. it was boring and seemed to have nothing to do with my grandmother. but she was Buddhist, so there we were.

wednesday was the funeral. thank you to the friends who showed up at such an inconvenient hour, and to those that wanted to be there for us and for those that prayed for us. i think you all made a favourable impression on my grandfather (he thought jacqueline was 15).

with her gone now, my grandfather has made some changes around the house. first thing was the removal of all Lunar New Year's decorations (because they were still up and they're all festive red). another surprising change was the dismantling and disposal of the altar to the ancestors that used to reside over the big freezer.

anyways, that explains the hiatus in posting.

A Tribute to the Early Bird

i thought it didn't upload when i first tried, but after a couple of months of not logging onto youtube, i found that it actually made it online. huzzah!
yes, i know, it is ironically 2 months late.

which is worse?

1. angry social outcast unloads a military rifle into a crowded cafeteria of college students, singling out one girl to shoot repeatedly before turning the gun on himself when the police arrive.

2. angry teenager breaks into his father's gun cupboard and shoots his principal, whom he believes to have ignored his requests for punishment against his tormentors.

3. 53 yr. old man holds six girls hostage, sexually assaults them, and executes one before killing himself.

4. 31 yr. old trucker seeking vengence for an incident that occured 20 years ago, storms a small Amish school, ties up all the girls in front of the chalkboard and shoots them all one at a time before commiting suicide.

Steve Irwin(Febuary 22 1962 - September 4 2006)

While filming for his upcoming tv special Ocean's Deadliest, the 'Crocodile Hunter' Steve Irwin, was most unconventionally felled by a stingray. He was doing some shallow water segments when he swam just a little too close over the stingray. The ray's signature barbed tail speared the fearless Irwin in the chest, piercing his heart. While stingray barbs are coated in venom, it is hardly enough to kill a man outright. Irwin died of massive cardiac trauma due to the 20-inch spike impaling him in the heart. He is only the second person to die of an Australian stingray attack following the first reported case in Melbourne, 1945.

He had an uncanny way with animals of all sorts and was heralded worldwide for his quirky, but humane treatment of dangerous creatures (most notably the salt-water crocodiles of Australia). His celebrity status fell briefly after his first feature film tanked, and fell further when he put on a public display of feeding a crocodile while cradling his one-month old child in the other arm.

Steve Irwin is survived by his wife and co-star Terri, and their two young children.

...

4 RCMP officers were killed thursday morning during a marijuana grow-operation investigation in Rochfort Bridge, Alberta.

this makes me angry.

John Morgan (1930-2004)

John Morgan, who played the dim-witted Mike from Canmore on CBC's The Royal Canadian Air Farce, was remembered Tuesday as "eccentric, talented, prolific and funny."

Morgan died Monday of a suspected heart attack at his home in Toronto...

later mike. you can be with norm now. sit, norm.

my.

"my, what a strong grip you have."
"the better to ignore the pain of the Baby i'm trying to birth," she winced.
"you're doing just fine. just breathe."
"no, i think it'll be more comfortable if i just hold my breath."
"labour has made you sardonic."
"and all these people looking between my legs has made you jealous."

Of course her speech was punctuated with contractions and various huffings and puffings, and his was hushed and what he took to be soothing, but it would not do to transcribe it so. As far as birthing rooms go, this one was spartan. White dominated every angle, the lights yellow in comparison. Apparently it helps the mother-to-be focus her efforts, not that her vision isn't already blurred with tears and perspiration. speaking of which, he mopped her face with a sodden handkerchief.

"we have towels for that, sir," piped a Helpful Nurse.
"oh, it's all right. they'd probably be more useful for the mess on the floor."
she shrugged and continued her work arranging and rearranging the tools of her trade. the doctor, meanwhile, whispered coaxings to the unborn baby, urging him or her to come out and play.

"breach!"
"told you those towels would come in handy." she was too busy to reply.
"placenta. tugging time, boys and girls."
"darling, our Doctor seems to be a bit of a quack."
"keep pushing, baby. and you too, Baby."
through the pain, she beamed at him. he gave her a quick kiss before moving over for a better view. with the placenta now dangling uncomfortably, cradled by Helpful Nurse's outstretched gloved hand, he found good reason to go back to the kissing.

"the Baby should be coming out feet first now. what say you, Ultrasonic Nurse?"
Ultrasonic Nurse nodded her agreement and continued focusing the sounding pad. the Doctor's view of the screen was plenty clear.

Ominous beeping pierced the cheerful labour banter.
"Doc, we've lost the pulse!"
"now is not a good time!"
"we should induce."
"she's too close for it to have any effect. it's up to her."

tuning it all out, he prayed for deliverance and delivery.

- - -

it was raining. pathetic fallacy, he mused, the very heavens weep for us. turning back to the clipboard in hand he filled out the necessary paperwork, the bills, the request for the body. the family and friends had all, thankfully, been ushered out politely by the ward's nurses. there was only so much condolance one could take.

he trudged back to her room and crawled under the covers. she was awake. tears sprung anew, but out of courtesy they sobbed quietly to each other until exhaustion overtook their grief and whisked them off to sleep. but not before he wiped her nose.

- - -

sleep was but temporary escape, though still preferable to being awake, which was a rather rotten feeling. the sun shone brightly, daring us to be happy. fat chance, Gas Ball. as he rubbed the crust from his eyes he found his wife awake, ceiling-gazing, quite possibly counting the holes in the tiles.

"12 403."
"i got 12 437. good morning." she continued to stare at the ceiling.
"its not your fault."
"i know."
"want to get out of here?"
"yeah."
"home?"
"not yet."

- - -

parking, they climbed on top of the hood, side by side, just like the good old days.

"just like the good old days." he echoed his thoughts. her only response was to curl up closer.

the leaves had just turned and were beginning to drop. the wind nipped but the heat of the engine warmed them from below. cirrus clouds wisped the secret messages of the winds in the sky as the sun warmed them from above. they were at a favourite Kodak Moment spot, a little parkette overlooking the valley and the opposite face. there the trees waved trichromatically, deciduous reds and olds, coniferous greens. it was there they had their first date. it was there he proposed. it was where they went to escape to think, to talk. it was where they went to celebrate the good stuff, and deal with the hard stuff.

"it was a boy."
"i suppose we ought to name him then. i don't think 'the Baby' really holds much water with kids these days."
"did you have something in mind?"
"not really. just whatever fit the moment."
"how about 'Not Fair'?" he pouted.
"you're pouting."
"a great male model was lost the day i picked up those books." that elicited a smirk, the first emotion she'd shown other than sorrow. they had met as he stooped to help her pick up her texts.
"not lost. just monopolized."
"selfish, selfish, selfish," he chided.
"is it selfish of me to want our Baby back?"
"no. we're allowed to covet God's possessions."
"it hurts."
"a lot. i love you."
"that helps."
he kissed her forehead and they spent the rest of the morning in silence.

- - -

Shadows are falling, and I'm running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while
When you get up in the morning, and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for a while
There's a train leaving nightly, called when all is said and done
Keep me in your heart for a while
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lo
Keep me in your heat for a while
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile
You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for a while

Hold me in your thoughts
Take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next you

Engine drivers headed north to pleasant street
Keep me in your heart for a while
These wheels keep turning but they're running out of steam
Keep me in your heart for a while
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lo
Keep me in your heart for a while
Keep me in your heart for a while

Superman's Dead

oh why-e-i-e-i-e, is Superman dead?

Click title for the article.

Ig Nobel Prize 2003: Biology

the first case of homosexual necrophilia in the mallard, anas platyrhynchos

On 5 June 1995 an adult male mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) collided with the glass façade of the Natuurmuseum Rotterdam and died. Another drake mallard raped the corpse almost continuously for 75 minutes. Then the author disturbed the scene and secured the dead duck. Dissection showed that the rape-victim indeed was of the male sex.