The Wax Conspiracy

When animals attack without their accompanying instruction manuals

Shivering still in pink chummy seas, the Discovery Channel in the US finishes out their annual Shark Week slate of programming on a high of still frothing mouths. To wit, presenting operational HD camera footage found at the bottom of the sea as that shot by casual vacationers. Misunderstanding how nature works remains the evergreen news crop.

After opening the bankruptcy of integrity to swim in the lucrative word-cash of social media outrage with the shredding of standards known as Megalodon: The Monster Shark Lives, people fresh to the sea of history and ready to expand their minds walked away either thinking the extinct creature actively unfloats boats today or that the fossils themselves never existed in the first place. Unlearning in action. Taking the viewers on a dramatised exploration near karst systems did nothing but add bubbles to the grey matter waters.

Evidence, and basic understanding of how animals work and become footnote fossils for thousands and millions of years, is but the throbbing stick gauging the temperature of the human brain.

The waters are balmy and mucor has called in contractors to cover over the sense known as sense.

Putting your parent's car keys into a rocking horse and making vroom-vroom splutters out the side of your mouth went away not longer after running down the hall with a bucket filled with your own faecal matter. The day was proud. Now, riding your horsey into town and barking back at a tinny box to order Chicken McNuggets with a side order of pink slime and chocolate sundae to chase it down with gets you on the radar.

Especially on a not-so rainy day in July in Greater Manchester. Forgetting both how a drive-through works and how a beast of burden operates after changing its oil after 5000 clops, the woman eventually left her Mister Ed to drop several black beauties inside the McDonald's itself.

Which is more to say than hipsters wanting to chook their own farms. Urban chicken farming, which is a thing, involves moving the egg carton from the fridge into a warm nest of straw in the backyard. Of course, when you're out plucking some orbs for your breakfast, the globes that don't detach belong to the roosters, and for some, that's a problem. Cities that allow for backyard chicken farming aren't having any of that cockadoodle-dooing.

So with no idea what to do with walking fresh meat outside of putting a lo-fi filter on it, hipsters end up dumping these at animal shelters. Shelters soon to become the new fish tank at the restaurant. Animals ripe and fit for the spit, beckoning with their huge eyeballs, wanting to deliver unto your taste buds the succulent juices married with deep rub spices and incidental seasoning.

This all comes to a head eventually, and when your fellow race members have all but lost the grasp of how animals work, a patch will spring on a pivot to take the animals' work away from them entirely.

Immigrant labour is a hot contessa of an issue for humans that after watching the tumbling seeds of destruction known as colony collapse disorder, some are even outsourcing nature's pollination jobs.

Clearly, if we can't work out how animals work in the first place, how dare they continue to work at all? The nerve of it all.

The world is turning in on itself. Our only hope is to remember how even that works.

Ethan Switch

Written on Monday, 12 August 2013

The Wax Conspiracy

Recently by Ethan Switch