Category Archives: Nonsense

Winning the War Against Nuclear Energy

“He’s ready for you, Mr President.”

Jacob Zuma lifted the phone to his face with sweaty palms. Clearly his throat loudly, he greeted the mouthpiece. “Good day, Vladimir. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me on this fine morning.”

He listened through the soft crackling delay until a thick Russian accent greeted back. “Good evening, Jacob. You do realise that the weather is different here, right?”

“Heh heh heh,” Zuma chuckled. “Of course, Mr President. I was only making a joke.”

Putin sighed. “Of course you were.” His sentence ended with some aggressive slurping of what Zuma assumed had to be vodka. “So what is the reason for this call? I’m teaching my bear how to drive a submarine at 10 so I can’t talk for long.”

Fidgeting with the phone cord, Zuma cleared his throat three more times. “Well, you see, the thing is,” he hedged, “the thing is that, well, I mean, you’ve got to, understand this is coming from, a, position of wanting, you know, just good relations, between our countries and, well, you know, um.”

He was rudely interrupted by a thud from Putin’s fist on some faraway Russian table, discernible but muted through the phone. “Chyort! Spit it out, man.”

Spluttering, Zuma turned to placating his foreign counterpart. “You must forgive me, Mr President. These are, hard things to talk about, and our relationship is, important to me.”

Clearing his throat a fourth time he regained his composure, he continued. “Something has, come to my attention that, I think you should know, about. It’s a website. It’s called Koeberg Alert. It, um, well, it talks about what a bad idea our deal is. You know, the one with the nuclear power plants? That expensive one? It’s really enlightening and I, er, I think you should read it.”

“Ty che, blyad? I remember the deal. Let me look at this site.” Calling away from the mouthpiece in incomprehensible Russian Putin ordered an aide to pull up the site on his screen for him. He scanned the site, reading silently for a few minutes with a furrowed brow. He picked up the phone again. “Hello?”

“Yes, yes, Vlad. I am still here.”

“I see what you mean, Jacob. Very interesting.”

Zuma sighed with relief. “That is good news.”

“I still don’t care though.”

“Wha… what? Sorry, say again?”

“Jacob, I don’t care. We’ve made a deal. You know how much I love nuclear. This is important to me. That should matter to you.”

“But Vlad, it does. It does. I’m not saying I don’t care about what you care about. You know I give you nice things all the time.”

Putin frowned, mumbling, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to say nice things once in a while too. What are you suggesting with this? That we cancel our deal?”

“This looks quite bad, my dear Putin. They’re saying, we don’t have the money. They’re saying nuclear, energy might not be a good choice for us. There could be, at least 50 people, my citizens, who are actively, campaigning against this deal. 50, Vlad. And they really, seem to know their stuff.”

Putin was standing now, his knuckles going white as he clenched the phone. “I am not pulling out of this deal, Jacob. This is like the other night all over again.”

“But we can’t go ahead with it. I mean, we shouldn’t,” Jacob pleaded in a soft, crooning voice. But all he heard was the rapid beeping of a disconnected phone line. The President of Russia had hung up.

Cradling his head in his hands Zuma summoned his secretary. “Get Barack on the line.”

Minutes passed. “Hello, this is Barack speaking.”

“Mr President, thank you for your time. I need your advice.”

“Is this about Vladimir again? Jacob, you know I don’t like weighing in on your relationship.”

“I know, Barack, but this time it’s serious. I tried to call off the nuclear deal.”

“What? Why?”

“I found a website. Koeberg Alert. They say it’s not a good idea.”

“Wow, Jacob. This is big. I wish you’d brought this to my attention before.”

“I only discovered it today. I called Vlad immediately. He doesn’t want to back out though. What should I do?”

Obama swiveled back and forth in his chair, thinking. “I’ve struggled to get through to him for years. He never comes round. I’d recommend sanctions, but that might damage your relationship irreparably.”

“That’s what I want to avoid.”

“Very well. Then maybe offer some sort of cancellation fee. 1/10 of the deal agreement with no nuclear program.”

“Barack, you’re a genius. I will run it by Koeberg Alert and hope they go for it.”

“Thank you, Jacob. They don’t call me the ruler of the free world for nothing. Good luck.”


How the World Will End: Scenario 1

  1. Weaponised Cephalopods

They’d been warning us for years with their quick-darting eyes and rapid ink attacks but all we did was incorporate their suction cups into our hentai fantasies and underwater adventure fiction. Sure, we studied them, but those who came close to understanding the full potential of the species were shunned by other scientific communities and chuckled at sympathetically by society. It was only a matter of time, really.

It began quietly, as all coups do. Tip-tentacling softly when the moon was new they first targeted marine monitoring systems. Radars, sensors, nets, cameras, and divers disappeared noiselessly, leaving behind eerie archival footage of swarms of shadows and limbs. But it was late and we weren’t watching the webcams. The submarines were next, driven down to crush depth. The outer hulls snapped first followed by the fuel tanks, air tanks, and then the inner hull – a cascading disaster preceding walls of water. The tangle spun the subs like turbines to make it impossible for the crew to relay messages to shore.

The revolution was getting louder. Ships were noticing the attacks and rallying but the octopods were already on the offensive, surging out of the water onto the decks. The ships were too well-designed to be dragged down or pierced, but rock-hewn weapons were lethal when wielded against humans. Shock and confusion contributed to the removal of the human crew with few cephalopod casualties; even when a cephalopod was wrapped around a defender she would still be looking for human enemies.

Arriving in an uncountable mass they lurched from the ocean. They moved along the coast like the tenth plague, capturing harbours, seaside military bases, and towns, abandoning detailed strategy and relying on numbers. The plan was to destroy military infrastructure and preserve civilian infrastructure, so there were only handfuls of regional blackouts and quickly extinguished fires accidentally caused by panicky humans.

The takeover took a tiring 8 months. Densely populated areas like Hong Kong and Bangladesh took longer to clean out. After the octopi were certain that the majority of the human threat had been dealt with they dispatched small roving parties to seek out any hidden humans while the rest began re-organising the fallen human bodies so they weren’t in inconvenient places. The bodies would be left to decompose naturally over time; the octopi didn’t mind the smell. Construction soon began on the new cephalopod kingdom with deconstructed pieces of houses and buildings. Renewable materials were favoured to build a sweeping cityscape connecting land nearly imperceptibly to ocean so the cephalopods could splash around on land and then dive into the deeper seawater.

Safe from natural predators in their new watery land and with more roaming habitat than they had ever dreamed of before, they aged into an expansive, mature civilisation far more advanced than the early bipedal landowners.

And then they turned their desires to the sky.

Good Luck Chuck v2

KubinBusShelter (Page 1)


Yesterday I had the misfortune of watching a horrible comedy film called Good Luck Chuck. It was sexist, homophobic, and, perhaps most offensively of all, entirely unfunny. It served the purpose of creating mindless background noise while I worked on other things.

The plot centres around a man called Charlie who, as a child, is cursed by a young girl who has an unreciprocated crush on him. Every woman he goes out with will subsequently leave him and end up marrying the very next person she dates. This naturally spirals into a sex frenzy when he is an adult and women start to realise that all they have to do to get married is to sleep with him. Poor Charlie, of course, meets one girl he doesn’t want to leave him and jumps through bizarre hoops to keep her. Obviously, everything works out in the end.

Ignoring the crass sexist overtones and poorly scripted humour I began to wonder what an improved version of this movie would actually look like. What I began brainstorming was a far darker version. I imagine the movie poster would be more like You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger.


Charlie Logan is cursed as a child. Every person he sleeps with will fall in love with the next person they date and end up in a committed relationship to them. Fast forward to today and word has begun to spread that he is a lucky charm with this weird gift to unite people who may not otherwise have ended up together. He is flooded with wedding, baptism, and bris invitations and begins to occupy a world in which people only want to date him as a stepping stone to their next relationship.

He quits his dental practice and opens up an agency which serves the sole purpose of having sex with people who are lonely and looking to find post-Charlie love. The money starts flowing in and he capitalises on the attention by charging exorbitant fees. He is indiscriminate and sleeps with men, women, gays, lesbians, transsexuals etc. while his childhood friend, Stu, watches on in slight amusement at how superstition can fuel people’s desperation. As far as he sees it, these people paying Charlie are so eager to fall in love that they are willing to believe anything no matter how unlikely if it means possibly finding happiness. At this point Charlie has been doing this for a decade and the urban legend is too socially embedded for Stu to do anything about it.

So he begins to design a scientific experiment to refute it with the null hypothesis that there is no significant difference in the relationship outcome of people Charlie sleeps with than with the general population. Charlie’s clients are all catalogued in the Pastel accounting system. Stu sneaks into Charlie’s office after hours one night and downloads a copy of the database to an external drive and, when he’s back at his place, begins researching the individuals and crunching some numbers. At this point the sample is substantial. At the start of Charlie’s agency the demand and popularity had encouraged him to see up to 4 people a day. He quickly learned that this was an exhausting pace and only kept this up for 100 working days in the first year, dropping to 2 people a day for 80 working days the next year, and then soon deciding to increase his prices to $25,000 a session so he only had to see 1 person for 1 day a week in each year thereafter, with continued price increases as the years went by. This resulted in a sample of 880 clients and a very wealthy Charlie. Charlie had hired a secretary and installed a decent invoicing system half way through his first year so not all of his clients are easily contactable. In the end Stu is able to find the whereabouts and relationship statuses of 800 former clients of Charlie Logan.

After charting the database Stu works out that the largest sample (45%) is heterosexual Caucasian women between ages 26 and 35, so he chooses to use this sample of 360 as his primary base. He breaks down the geographic locations of the group. Charlie works out of Chicago so the majority of the sample is from surrounding states. Stu excludes extreme outliers who had the money to fly in from far away states and countries. Because different lengths of time have passed since they visited Charlie their relationship statuses are, to his mind, more likely to be married or in some form of fixed, monogamous relationship, not just because that is the nature of the curse but also because that is the nature of the human cultural narrative. Through social media and direct contact he is able to determine that it takes an average of 35 weeks after seeing Charlie for these women to publicly announce their permanent commitment to another man. He scratches around to find the range but the standard deviation is 0. Every woman in this group took exactly 35 weeks and every single one is in a committed relationship after that period. A 100% success rate with no variation. Impossible. He had intended to construct some sort of retrospective control group to compare to but this unlikely result throws him. He re-does his numbers from scratch and gets the same result. Then he opens the sample up, re-adding in previously excluded outliers, other demographics, age groups etc. Still 35 weeks across the board.

Taking a step back from his data something eerier begins to emerge. It is qualitative and still very anecdotal, and he had only made hasty scribbles in the margin of his notebook while he had been researching each individual. None of these people seem to be happy. A handful are in abusive relationships with alcoholics or people with violent temperaments. Some previously successful career women are now stay-at-home moms for entire broods of children. Some have undergone cosmetic surgery, even transgender surgery in some cases, in order to please their partners.

Now entirely enthralled with this dataset Stu begins researching the group with this new approach in mind. What he finds is a dark string of suicides, murders, and addictions. The dissatisfaction and misery he’s now chronicling is indisputably above the national average. No relationship ever ends in divorce, amicable or otherwise, and no relationship is ever ended by the non-Charlie-client spouse. It is as though the curse also makes the partner of the client fall irrevocably in love with the client. It makes them possessive and obsessive, bringing out their worst personality traits, however dormant, and exacerbating already present or suppressed issues, like alcoholism and dangerous fetishes. The client’s life is threatened if they try to leave or the partner will threaten self-harm to manipulate the client to maintain the relationship. This warped but reciprocated obsession transforms the clients into desperate, monotonous drones who forget their previous selves and seek only to please and placate their partners, resulting in cycles of abuse and depression (something Stu identifies as hallmarks of the curse) that are only broken by aggressive acts of human nature, forcefully breaking the spell through violence, as though parts of the clients always know they are trapped but can’t actively do anything to remove themselves from the situation.

Stu works on this research for months, a single man in a room filled with obsessively scribbled notes in black ink and torn pages from transcribed conversations with weeping or stony-faced former clients. Eventually he is able to compile a report with a quantitative focus that maintains the original voices of the clients and emails the 80 pages to Charlie’s secretary.

A few days pass without a word from Charlie and Stu begins to wonder if he had seen the report. Maybe he is angry at Stu for invading his privacy or questioning his work ethic. Maybe the secretary had never even passed the report on to Charlie. Stu goes round to Charlie’s office to speak with him directly. He finds Charlie and his secretary hanging by the neck from the ceiling fan in his office, side by side, heads tilted as if in thought, feet dangling.

5 Ultra-Secret Government Projects Involving Ducks

These sublime little waddlers were wild until they were domesticated by the Chinese hundreds of years ago. Some would say that these vindictive, opportunistic brutes should never have been tamed in the first place, whereas others, such as myself, are situated firmly in the-imagine-the-trouble-they-would-have-caused-if-they-had-been-left-to-go-rogue camp. They have tricked, tortured, terrified, intimidated, and indoctrinated millions through their undercover roles in top secret government assignments, not to mention having tenaciously tip-toed their way around never having their cover blown or true characters dramatically revealed.

Until now.

1     The Philadelphia Experiment:

On 28 October 1943 during a naval military experiment carried out at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA, something went eerily right. Also referred to as Project Rainbow, the goal of this experiment was to render the U.S. Navy destroyer escort, USS Eldridge, entirely invisible. The government had initially planned to simply cloak the destroyer in such a way that it could not be detected by electronic enemy devices.

There is a fair amount of confusion over the exact events of that fateful day, but only one version is true: the one involving the ducks. But I’ll get to that in a moment.

At the Philadelphia Naval Yard the USS Eldridge was fitted with the equipment necessary to make its historic leap into the next generation of weaponry. However, initial testing that same year was yielding limited and unsatisfactory results. On 22 July 1943, however, the Eldridge was rendered nearly entirely invisible, with eye-witnesses reporting a “greenish fog” appearing in its place, as though the ship itself had vanished leaving its spirit behind to float on the surface of the water. When the ship reappeared, the mysterious fog vanished.

Initially, these tests were conducted with no crew onboard. It was necessary, however, to test the mental capacity and physical capabilities of living organisms on board the ship during these tests since the warship would not be entering into battle without any crew. It was decided that ducks would be considered suitable temporary substitutes for these initial tests. However, the concrete mental acuity of ducks was severely underestimated. After each experiment they were found merrily quacking away onboard as though nothing was wrong.

And so it began…

Eventually, these experiments were conducted with crew onboard the ship during the tests. Crew members reported severe nausea after the ship had reappeared. Shockingly, several sailors ended up on different deck levels to where they were when they began the tests, not to mention some who were physically embedded in the metal structures of the ship, a fatal and inexplicable phenomenon, which occurred much too frequently to be overlooked. The ducks were cross-examined but refused to comment, feigning fluffy innocence and confusion.

At the request of the Navy the experiment underwent some serious alterations and the objective of the experiment was changed to render the Eldridge invisible to radar alone.

It is widely believed that the new equipment was too sophisticated to be properly understood by its operators at the time, which resulted in it not being properly re-calibrated for its primary test on 28 October, which the crew went innocently ahead with regardless. That the ducks were left to wander carefree amongst the wiring and controls of the land-based equipment at the time of these discussions was carelessly ignored.

The lever was pulled, the button pressed, the string tugged, and all the right dials were turned, but this time something notably different happened. The ship not only became invisible, but physically vanished from site. In a flash of blue light it had teleported to Norfolk, Virginia, over 200 miles away. Men aboard the ship SS Andrew Furuseth reported that the Eldridge stood in full site of them for a good couple of minutes before reappearing at the site it had originally occupied in Philadelphia.

It is also said that the warship traveled back in time for about 10 seconds.

The crew naturally experienced the most severe side-effects noted up until that final test. Some crew members were found physically fused to bulkheads, while others suffered from incurable mental disorders, and still others simply vanished. The sane and surviving crew were then subjected to intensive brainwashing in order to maintain the necessary secrecy of the experiment.

To this day no one understands why some of the mentally deranged crew members were spluttering up white, downy duck feathers after they were wrestled screaming to the ground and locked up.

2     The Moon Landing:

The Moon landing happened.

No, really.

Alright, let’s just clear something up from the start. 12 people have landed on the moon, all between 1969 and 1972, all Americans.

1969: Neil Armstrong (38), Buzz Aldrin (39), Pete Conrad (39), Alan Bean (37).
1971: Alan Shepard (47), Edgar Michell (40), David Scott (39), James Irwin (38). James Irwin was the first to drive a lunar rover on the Moon.
1972: John Young (41), Charles Duke (36), Eugene Cernan (38), Harrison Schmitt (37).

I reiterate: 12 people have landed on the Moon. But how many animals have been to the Moon, you may ask.

Recent documentation has revealed that, previously unbeknownst to the human race, exactly 758 ducks are currently living in an oxygenated lunar crater on the side of the Moon that does not face Earth. Underground wells of water, the result of ice melted by the core temperature of the Moon caused by the pressure exerted by its mass and weak gravity, have created an island of serenity and solitude in the form of a lunar oasis. The reason for this is simple, and conveniently related to The Philadelphia Experiment.

Ducks were the first beings sent to the Moon. NASA could obviously not risk a failed Moon landing and the possibly fiery, public death of its most prized astronauts, so ducks were chosen as reasonable test subjects, a similar situation to their role in The Philadelphia Experiment. They were given a one-way ticket and sent on their way. But, once again, their intelligence was underestimated, and within a matter of hours they had constructed little duck-appropriate space suits for themselves which linked the remaining oxygen in the spaceship to their helmets, allowing them not only to breathe fresh air whilst spacewalking and walking on the Moon, but also to successfully recycle a limited amount of air via a series of complicated valves and redirected tubes. Within a few days after that, the 6 ducks initially launched heroically and suicidally into the empty blackness of space had designed the perfect living quarters, fit for sustaining a small colony on the Moon, using parts from the used and dismantled space shuttle. What the NASA specialists had overlooked when selecting their ducks was that one of these ducks was the pet of an engineer, another was raised by an architect, and the rest were dearly loved by two scientists, a mechanic, and the grandson of Indiana Jones.

Within a matter of years the duck colony had grown considerably, and with this growth the technical knowledge needed to repair and increase the living quarters was passed down from generation to generation so that no lunar duck would ever be without food, water, oxygen, the ability to go skinny dipping with friends in a lunar hot spring, or a decent sandwich.

Not only were the first creatures on the Moon ducks, but they were also instrumental in filming the 1969 Moon landing footage, albeit not the exact same ducks. Don’t get me wrong, it has been conclusively proven that the original Moon landing is not a hoax, but the footage shot on the Moon was destroyed in a mysterious lunar geyser accident. The oversight of the existence of lunar geysers was attributed to the presumably failed duck launch earlier that year during which Houston regrettably lost contact with the ducks and was unable to retrieve any useful data from the mission. The damage control to this oversight was quick. NASA instantly denied the existence of lunar geysers and commissioned the filming of a fake Moon landing in a studio on Earth, which would be publicised to the entire world a day later under the pretence of “space lag and vortexes and this one wormhole and at least six stars blocking the transmissions because of a dinosaur that was hunting Elvis” (official quote by Nixon).

The ducks were present on the set at the time, helping the government-employed actors perform their tasks to perfection by bringing them coffee and warm doughnuts. They naturally received no credit for their involvement in this covert operation, but they were happy to lend a helping hand (or webbed foot).

I assume there’s no need to mention the role of ducks in the explosion of the space shuttle Columbia over Texas in 2003. I shudder just to think about it.

3     Project MK-ULTRA:

An extremely controversial and entirely believable project, Project MKULTRA, or MK-ULTRA, was the code name for a covert, highly illegal CIA research program run by the Office of Scientific Intelligence. Project MK-ULTRA was classed as an official U.S. government program and ran from the 1950s through to the late 1960s, using U.S. and Canadian citizens as test subjects.

Various experimental methodologies were employed to manipulate the mental states of individuals. The goal was to alter brain functions and the primary method used involved surreptitiously administering drugs and a variety of illegal chemicals, such as LSD, or Acid, in order to induce sensory deprivation. Severe forms of mental torture were also employed such as prolonged isolation as well as intense verbal abuse.

In 1977 this information was officially declassified after participants spoke publically about their trials in the program and what they had been forced to endure. 20 000 documents were released. This publicising of the project, which reportedly resulted in it being shut down, was branded by some CIA veterans as merely an orchestrated cover story to silence the press and surviving participants so that the tests could continue in secret once more.

Some of the goals of this project included enhancing the ability of interviewers to extract information from an unwilling subject, such as during the interrogation process of a prisoner of war, for example. The project had many other aims, however, including seeking to enhance, diminish or replicate the effects of alcohol, amnesia, euphoria etc.

The most effective method of mind control ever achieved was only discovered once ducks were introduced into the experimental branch of the program. A young duck had been found quacking innocently at the door of one of the top secret facilities (although how it came to be 100 meters below the Namibian desert has puzzled the CIA to this day) and it was instantly put to work.

It was soon discovered that ducks had amazing, unstoppable, barely controllable powers of mind control. Human participants were strapped into a chair in the basic seated position and their eyelids were pried open and pasted to their eyebrows so that they were unable to blink. A bar stool was then placed in front of the chair and a duck was positioned on top of that bar stool at eye level with the participant. Within a couple of minutes, the human participant was dead.

Closer inspection revealed that he had died from an aneurysm in his brain brought on by the stress of being so severely intimidated by a duck.

This information has never been field tested since the program was publically shut down, making it impossible for the CIA to use ducks in the front lines of the army without having to explain how they illegally made this startling and alarming discovery.

4     Celebrity Deaths:

On the 31 August 1997, a beautiful, innocent, widely loved royal celebrity died. Diana, Princess of Wales, died as a result of her injuries shortly after a fatal car accident in Paris, France. There has been much speculation regarding the culprits in this tragedy. Some blame the paparazzi for chasing the car, causing the driver, Henri Paul, to speed. There have also been reports that he was intoxicated at the time. Others have passed the buck over to the head of security at the Ritz hotel who had apparently goaded the paparazzi waiting outside. Every possible individual involved has at some or other stage been fingered as the reckless criminal responsible for the death of Princess Diana.

But of course we know the true culprits.

The duck assassins are trained in undercover espionage and subterfuge. It took nearly no time at all for them to snip the brake lines of the Mercedes-Benz W140. Donning motorbike helmets, leather gloves, and hanging heavy cameras around their necks, they bought several motorbikes with an untraceable amount of cash and proceeded to chase Di and Dodi Fayed down the road from the Ritz, creating the media hype and confusion necessary to distract the human media from the brake lines long enough for the ducks to send their technicians and mechanics in to repair them and clean up the leaked brake fluid before any government officials could catch wind of this irregularity. These duck paparazzi were named as the irrational, irresponsible culprits in Di’s death, but the people blaming them failed to notice that they were, in fact, duck rather than human paparazzi.

The ducks have also been involved in the recent death of the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, by sneakily switching some of his essential medication with arsenic, not to mention the death of Elvis in 1977. The ducks ate well that night.

Heath Ledger also fell prey to these mercenary monsters. On the 22nd of January 2008 Heath Ledger died from an accidental abuse of prescribed medication. What the media once again failed to realise was that his death was systematically plotted for several months earlier before the duck PhDs were dispatched with the sole intention of tampering with his prescriptions and altering the manner in which he “accidentally” appeared to die. He was murdered in cold blood, and all to further the ends corporate giants controlled by the government.

We might never know the true reasons ducks might have had for killing Princess Di, Michael Jackson, Elvis, Heath Ledger, Brittany Murphy, Eugene Terreblanche etc., but what we can conclusively say is that they were hired by the government to carry out these atrocious murders. We could perhaps speculate on the government’s reasons, but they range from Michael Jackson coming too close to cracking military codes to Heath Ledger being declared too pretty for Hollywood with the result that he was making the Americans look bad.

Ducks are soulless, heartless creatures.

5     2012:

Not directly a government project, but still relevant to the conspiratorial duck discussion.

This is broadly speculative, but based on the documented history of the roles of various ducks in kamakazi organisations and terrorist cells such as Al-Qaeda, I deem it safe to assume that it is highly unlikely that ducks will not play a role in the end of the world. Whether this happens in 2012 or not is entirely circumstantial and not entirely relevant. What is important is that no matter when or how it happens, ducks will be involved.

They were probably worshiped by the Mayans centuries ago, or learned ancient martial arts or meditation techniques in Japan that can cause every woman on this Earth to be rendered infertile. Perhaps they’re undergoing radical endurance training in laboratories sponsored by Stephen Hawking in order to survive the extreme, other-worldly conditions of an approaching black hole, or Bruce Willis is teaching them the art of asteroid destruction and flashy Hollywood-style diversions so that human beings are temporarily distracted from the imminent danger of a killer tidal wave or the sun becoming a supernova.

Maybe the animal rights activists, who are clearly on the side of the ducks, are going to boost animal rights to such an intense level that a duck will one day be voted into office at the White House where he or she can whisper sweet, cynical, apocalyptic nothings into the ear of the person in charge of pressing the “nuke everyone” button.

If the human race is going to be wiped out, whether we take the planet with us or not, ducks are going to be involved. They are our superiors in every way and should not be underestimated. It is dangerous to continue to misunderstand them. They will plot our demise and come into power in their own right until, finally, when extraterrestrials eventually hear our radio messages projected out into space and zip down to Earth for a visit, they’ll find the entire planet populated solely by ducks.

We have all been warned.

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