Well, after over six weeks, I have finally returned from my sabbatical in the wilderness that we know as Maine. After wandering through this desolate land of wannabe Stephen King terrors and small-town people with indefinable accents, I managed to reach the final stage of enlightenment. Yes, enlightenment. I have finally realized what my life's work should be, and have come to terms with the meaning of my existence.
But until Joss Whedon's Firefly returns to television and My Little Pony disappears from the internet altogether, said work cannot take place. Therefore, I have decided to resume my web writing for the Gargoyle to pass the time. And, since I am a generous higher power, I have decided to impart some of the ancient wisdom that I have gained from the wild after the jump. Be grateful, lesser beings. Be grateful.
But until Joss Whedon's Firefly returns to television and My Little Pony disappears from the internet altogether, said work cannot take place. Therefore, I have decided to resume my web writing for the Gargoyle to pass the time. And, since I am a generous higher power, I have decided to impart some of the ancient wisdom that I have gained from the wild after the jump. Be grateful, lesser beings. Be grateful.
1) You cannot teach a bear to play the piano. Or, for that matter, the tambourine, guitar, cello, or wooden box.
A bear is an interesting and strange creature. While I was on top of a mountain, I happened to come across one of them and found firsthand why this is the case. After a short talk that eventually led to a wrestling match (I won, of course), the bear admitted to me through a series of lumbering and grunts that it only wanted to play a musical instrument. Unfortunately, when I took him back to the campsite that served as my home, I found that, surprisingly, teaching a bear how to play music is difficult, as it usually can't tell the difference between pounding and plucking, preferring instead to masticate everything until it's unplayable. Most unfortunate.
Another outright fabrication by the Disney corporation.
2) Tree Spirits do not appreciate Robert Frost.
In fact, I found that this mythical creatures so commonly portrayed as messengers in fantasy movies are actually rather annoying little gossips. When I tried to read them a poem in the hopes that they would appreciate all the tree imagery, I was met with an overwhelming attitude of "yeah, that's nice, now who is Tom Cruise dating?" "what's the latest internet meme?" and "do you think Ashley will be the next Bachelorette?" Needless to say, I decided to have a more stimulating conversation with the nearest bed of fungi.
3) The secret of time travel and immortality both lie within the lake and the weather.
A simple recipe to consider:
A) Write consistently in a journal. Remove a part of your soul and place it in said journal (thus creating an effective horcrux).
B) Step outside. No matter, the season, it will be raining. It will also be very, very cold.
C) Throw your journal into the lake. It will instantly freeze as it touches the water, effectively creating a cryogenic time capsule which rivals that of Walt Disney.
D) Wait until it is warm and not raining, which may realistically happen only hundreds of years from now. You will be fished out, no doubt, by some future being. Good luck.
4) We are not alone.
The aliens have come for us, friends. Bloodsucking monsters with their flesh-eating cohorts. Worse than that are their pets, the ones that embed themselves into your skin to suck your blood, leaving only when they have had their fill. If you're lucky, you'll escape without experiencing the Ring of Death--a mark that they leave behind after their alien chemicals have reached your brain. We have even named these creatures: mosquitoes, blackflies, and ticks. They exist among us freely. But I fear it is only a matter of time until they take over our planet and enslave us all with their mind control.
No matter how tempting it may seem, ticks should not be kept as pets. It insults them.
5) Bird watching is fun, so long as you keep in mind that you won't actually see any fuckin' birds
Make no mistake, though. They see you just fine. They see everything. More invisible than ninjas and more intelligent than your average genius, they watch for body language and signs of illegal activity. From just a wink or a wrong twitch of a muscle, you can subconsciously tell them just where you buried that body or how many movies you've torrented. You'll hear that innocent tweet from some branch or other, and that's the sign that they know. Their "code red," if you will. They know who you are and where you live. They know everything. From the wilderness, they will come for you. Beware.
A bear is an interesting and strange creature. While I was on top of a mountain, I happened to come across one of them and found firsthand why this is the case. After a short talk that eventually led to a wrestling match (I won, of course), the bear admitted to me through a series of lumbering and grunts that it only wanted to play a musical instrument. Unfortunately, when I took him back to the campsite that served as my home, I found that, surprisingly, teaching a bear how to play music is difficult, as it usually can't tell the difference between pounding and plucking, preferring instead to masticate everything until it's unplayable. Most unfortunate.
Another outright fabrication by the Disney corporation.In fact, I found that this mythical creatures so commonly portrayed as messengers in fantasy movies are actually rather annoying little gossips. When I tried to read them a poem in the hopes that they would appreciate all the tree imagery, I was met with an overwhelming attitude of "yeah, that's nice, now who is Tom Cruise dating?" "what's the latest internet meme?" and "do you think Ashley will be the next Bachelorette?" Needless to say, I decided to have a more stimulating conversation with the nearest bed of fungi.
3) The secret of time travel and immortality both lie within the lake and the weather.
A simple recipe to consider:
A) Write consistently in a journal. Remove a part of your soul and place it in said journal (thus creating an effective horcrux).
B) Step outside. No matter, the season, it will be raining. It will also be very, very cold.
C) Throw your journal into the lake. It will instantly freeze as it touches the water, effectively creating a cryogenic time capsule which rivals that of Walt Disney.
D) Wait until it is warm and not raining, which may realistically happen only hundreds of years from now. You will be fished out, no doubt, by some future being. Good luck.
4) We are not alone.
The aliens have come for us, friends. Bloodsucking monsters with their flesh-eating cohorts. Worse than that are their pets, the ones that embed themselves into your skin to suck your blood, leaving only when they have had their fill. If you're lucky, you'll escape without experiencing the Ring of Death--a mark that they leave behind after their alien chemicals have reached your brain. We have even named these creatures: mosquitoes, blackflies, and ticks. They exist among us freely. But I fear it is only a matter of time until they take over our planet and enslave us all with their mind control.
No matter how tempting it may seem, ticks should not be kept as pets. It insults them.5) Bird watching is fun, so long as you keep in mind that you won't actually see any fuckin' birds
Make no mistake, though. They see you just fine. They see everything. More invisible than ninjas and more intelligent than your average genius, they watch for body language and signs of illegal activity. From just a wink or a wrong twitch of a muscle, you can subconsciously tell them just where you buried that body or how many movies you've torrented. You'll hear that innocent tweet from some branch or other, and that's the sign that they know. Their "code red," if you will. They know who you are and where you live. They know everything. From the wilderness, they will come for you. Beware.
