THE BLACK BOOT DIARIES – Animal Control

THE BLACK BOOT DIARIES – Animal Control

“And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things.”

(Really, they just asked for that… practically begged).

Though what is detailed below is actually simpler from a scientific point of view (at least it seems so to me, but what do I know?), it seems a tad silly and somehow less believable than earthquake weapons, for example. I really wanted to skip this, but the bordering on something out of Hitchcock flock of blackbirds I witnessed moments ago (that simply would not abate until I whipped out my camera several minutes after it began) means that someone just isn’t going to let it go and I don’t want to disappoint my surveillance team audience. 😉

Controlling the mind of an insect, bird or “lesser” mammal, however, should be easier than a human in most respects. For example, if you can sort of “record” the stimuli when a spider decides to bite, then in theory you can “press play” and get it to bite someone or some thing.  Similarly, you can probably get it to move to a specific location first. How many “different” thoughts is a spider likely to have? Eat, bite, run, hide, web task one, web task 2, etc. Move it to the location desired and click the “bite button.”

Such as a lower left eyelid—the spot where I was bit just before Pride 2010 resulting in necrosis of the skin. No scar. I do have photos (onetwo), but the lighting was such that it looks less horrifying than it actually was; camera could not capture the discoloration of the skin and tended to make it all appear smoother than it actually was, so it just looks like peeling and a little swelling. To be certain that I wasn’t exaggerating the severity of it’s appearance, I took my sunglasses off briefly in a coffee shop. The young barrista winced. I wouldn’t put it quite at Jonah Hex level of disfigurement, but it was not too far from that.

Really, it’s just a matter of tricking whatever passes for a spiderbrain into thinking it wants to go where you want it to go. And then bite at the right time.

Ironically, I had told some lady on the Stone Arch bridge (which was infested with spiders and webs that Summer) that they “give you the heebie-jeebies, don’t they?” In reality, I wasn’t much frightened of them at all. (Call it a test to see if mindreading works. Read somewhere that someone thought it did. Apparently it doesn’t actually work, just some good educated guesses based on psychological profiles and going to absurd lengths to even know what books you checked out of the school library in fifth grade. Also there’s that software they want to put in airports, etc. that’s supposed to be better at reading facial expressions than humans are. Supposed to be able to pick out the terrorists in the crowd. Imagine sociopaths of all kinds will get caught up in that until they teach it to ignore CEOs and politicians as a rule).

So it was not long after that I (still being drugged silly) wrote an email to…some dude who lives in a large white house. Mentioned how I saw Senator Franken at the parade (though he sure looked hesitant when he got out of that car, LOL), and had overcome acrophobia, aquaphobia, and arachnophobia all around the same time (the former two the result if crossing a bridge over water that was under construction).

A few hours or days after that (forget which, time flies when they’ve slipped you the happy juice) I was sitting at a park bench near the Stone Arch and was suddenly overrun with spiders. Not too many, but then how many does it take to get you to move when they all decide to crawl on you at the same time?

(Reminder, ’cause I know some of you are forgetful: UofM, research, funding).

If 2010 was the year of the bedbug, 2011 was the year of the spider. Even got a photo (bad one) of a species that isn’t supposed to be in this state. They have at times decided to descend from the ceiling in the oddest places. Hardly a day goes by without spotting some in the apartment. Strangely enough, there weren’t nearly as many on the Stone Arch this year.

I think that covers the major insect events. Moving up the chain…

Birds. I mention in passing the mallard who refused to let me alone in Prospect Park, Brooklyn mostly for the comic relief. Don’t know one way or the other (you gotta figure Mel Blanc got that idea from somewhere so maybe daffy is normal behavior for male mallards). That little fella made an appearance in Learning to Fly.

And of course today’s loud flock of blackbirds. An ill omen if you’re superstitious, a hilarious use of tax dollars if you aren’t.

Moving up to dogs.

West Village, 2005ish, a somewhat off-topic digression (there’s a reason for it):

– Credit card fraud victim (twice, I think).
– Apartment flooded by roof drain problem.
– Bike stolen from inside the apartment the same week (I would later learn) that Bloomberg decided to secretly pull most of NYPD off of normal work for a terrorist event training exercise; apparently the crooks had no trouble finding out, just the folks who were their potential victims. Really, the guys wearing (I am not exaggerating) clothing that can only be described as Starsky & Hutch or Miami Vice criminal outfits standing out front of the apartment a few days earlier should have been a clue something was amiss. (No, really. A white tank top and a hat right out of wardrobe circa 70s/80s TV).
– And the point, the female corgi ate carpet and got the “yarn” caught in her intestines. We did not discover that, however, until she was so ill that she stopped eating. That was the clue. If you’ve spent time around Pembroke’s, you will know what I mean. “Aren’t all dogs like that?” people often ask. Perhaps, but not to this degree. If a corgi were convinced there was a milkbone on top of a mountain, they would try for it and, if successful, would consider it worth it. It’s a “cute” attribute (sometimes) but has a scientific explanation. The breed tends toward having the same malady: the stomach does not succeed in telling the brain that it’s full very well. There’s a chemical that gets released in most mammals that does that. Maybe the chemical is sparse in corgis but in any case the receptors don’t get the message for some reason. This is also why they tend toward being overweight (the malady plus being really good at begging and multiple methods of getting at food).

Anyway, when she would not eat (and frankly looked at me like she wanted me put her out of her misery) I knew it was vet time. (She got surgery and survived it).

(The point of mentioning those other things: it seems clear now. A lot of things to push us to move to Brooklyn, where they would later get Scahill to move as well as Kevin Elden, another former NJSF intern. The roof drain thing was so over the top it couldn’t, in hindsight, possibly be “random”).

Moving ahead to January or February 2010. The female was put to sleep due to a mysterious disease the previous year (red blood blood cells disappearing). The male was also ill for a few weeks (different symptoms) around the same time but survived.

One day, in the middle of wondering many things (like who is this Balding fellow and why is he such an unmitigated prick?, why does the government hate comic books and science fiction?, etc.) the male would not get up to eat. See? Flashback to 2005 and the female.

Called Jim, went out on to the balcony for a smoke where I found a couple of pieces of plastic. Was someone (like Anthony and his roommate who lived above—how else do you get plastic up on a third floor balcony? Slingshot maybe) trying to tell me the dog had eaten plastic?

Recalling the advice we got after the carpet incident, I tried that. Essentially get a dog to pass what it’s eaten by feeding it that fiber stuff. Forget what it’s called. It a fiber supplement, comes in orange and original flavor (the latter I assume is a euphemism for ‘cardboard’). So, fixed the food and by the time it was done, the dog was miraculously behaving normal again. No sign of plastic.

And then there’s that crazy cat that directed me to buy that book that time. Not why I moved here. For that, we’d have to talk about mind control and social engineering in humans. (As Stu suggested that other book, the one with a zombie and a vampire in space, so Jim suggested the city. Wasn’t me and never would be).

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3 Comments

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