Climate Change or Massive Animal Toilet?
Let’s get something out of the way that has been burning a hole in my soul for a long time: I like blobs. From A Boy and His Blob on the Nintendo Entertainment System to 1958’s The Blob (also known as The Molten Meteor), to Marvel’s The Blob and even Dick Cheney, who looks like he is the offspring of two gelatinous monsters. If it’s blobbalicious, I’m all about it. And this is why researchers from Oregon State University have pissed me off. They have sullied the name blob.
Their “blob,” if you can even call it that, is a massive area of warm water in the Pacific Ocean that is wreaking havoc on the Oregon and Washington coastlines. This huge pee puddle (come on, we all know about warm spots in the pool) is causing a toxic algal bloom that is resulting in marine mammal bucket-kickings as well as closures on crabbing… er… crabbing… regions. Where people were once allowed to crab, they can no longer crab. Yes, that. Damn I’m eloquent.
Apparently there have been two other blobs detected in the last 15,000 years (with our time machines, undoubtedly, am I right? Right? Nobody can explain the tides, man!), both associated with time periods of rapid warming. Though the Great Pacific Northwestern Blob is supposed to have existed once before, only to disappear, scientists aren’t sure how long we can expect it to hang out.
I read the initial research, which was published in Nature on Oct. 19, but I feel they’re missing the point with all of their wishy-washy “climate” talk. What we should be wondering is why all of the ocean animals are piddling in that one spot.
And Now, For the Most Boring Stuff Ever
Our friends at the Lane Regional Air Protection Agency, or LRA… P… A, Q… no, LRAPA, put a 24-hour ban in place for burning wood in stoves on Nov. 28. The first thing you need to know is that, if you do the math, this doesn’t affect you at all because it’s been done for like a week. The second is that the “red advisory” (very intense) was put into place because of a high pressure cold front that crept in over the western part of the state. Holding air at the ground like a cop on a wriggling crackhead, smoke started to build up from wood stoves, which screwed up the air in the area for wimps suffering from asthma, emphysema, and possibly pink eye.
That just about covers it. You can thank me in the form of check, cash, money order, or doing my dishes. I’m not a slob, this has just been a really busy term. Okay, maybe I’m a little bit of a slob. There does appear to be some sort of dried spaghetti sauce on my jacket.
It’s the Big One! Or Not
Or not. A 4.4 magnitude temblor (for you geology snobs) did a little pinch ‘n’ squeal off the coast of the southern part of the state on Nov. 28. Six miles under the sea floor and almost 200 miles off the coast of Coos Bay, this lil fella did no damage and scared no paranoid people (that I’m aware of). This is evidenced by the lack of people bum-rushing the Walmart Supercenter on Newmark Avenue for bottled water and bargain bin DVD releases.
Well, I Just Barfed a Little
Oregon, like a lot of places on a globalized earth, has problems with invasive species. While we can’t really do anything about the Californians due to state and federal laws, we can totally jack all of those stupid bullfrogs and thistles. How, you dare ask? With our gastrointestinal systems.
You see, several people are suggesting (and going much further upon occasion) that we just eat these bastards. Bullfrogs eat other frogs, birds, duck babies, rats, etc… so we’ll just eat them and solve the problem. Only, that’s like, totally nasty. I’m actually looking at a picture of a kid eating a deep fried Oregonian bullfrog and I’m wondering if his parents tested the water for Midi-chlorians or something before tricking their stupid kid into eating this stuff. I know I pee in the lake sometimes, sue me.
The proper way to cook these things up is with a coating of egg yolk and corn meal, then fry it in peanut oil. Yay. One group, the Institute for Applied Ecology (based right here in Corvallis) hosts an annual fe… fea… feast ::shivers:: and cooking competition called “Eradication by Mastication.” And before you ask, yes, they put out a cookbook called They’re Cooked.
I was going to get into the thistles and crayfish, but my stomach says no. I literally just saw a picture of what appeared to be a crayfish in a bag of garbage with text suggesting that I eat it. I’ve developed the cold sweats.
By Johnny Beaver