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Invisible Killer Rays
By Mickey Sartre, News Lampoon cub reporter
According to recent news
stories, Wi-Fi rays are killing my sperm, but my cell phone will not
give me brain cancer anymore, though if I put it in my front pants pocket,
it, too, will kill my sperm. I don’t believe it, the part about cell
phones no longer causing brain cancer. Someday
soon a scientific study will put cell phones back on the cancer-causing
list, and if not, then what about my cordless phone?
What
happens when I’m standing in front of my microwave oven impatiently
listening to those final intermittent kernels of popcorn pop? I’m not
sure I want to know. And what about the alpha and gamma and other rays,
all those invisible speeding particles from outer space bombarding us
every second, minute, hour, every day of our lives, even while we’re
sleeping? What about power lines? Head phones?
The stuff
emanating from my Wi-Fi station is not rays, it’s more like waves, I
think, but who cares? I know the radiation from power lines is more like
fields, not rays, but does that make me feel one iota better? A
lot of bad things happen in fields.
These days, by
comparison, good old-fashioned ultraviolet-, infrared-, and x-rays seem
about as sinister as the ingredients in a warm cup of Mom’s homemade
chicken soup. Slather on some sunscreen, wear a lead bib, and you’ll
probably escape with minimal damage.
What about “Dark
Energy”? That what we see is less than three thousandths of a percent of
what’s really there? And the rest is this . . . Dark Energy.
What’s that doing to us?
Physicists claim
there are other dimensions, other worlds made of infinitesimally small
vibrating “strings” that somehow occupy the same “space” we’re occupying.
We just can’t see them. What about that?
What kind of
weird rays and stealth shit are the men and women wearing white lab coats
and employed by the government and corporations like General Dynamics
concocting right now? Remember the neutron bomb? The one that would kill
every living thing but leave all the buildings intact? What kind of
“bomb” is that? Sounds like rays or waves or fields to me.
Everywhere I go
they have Wi-Fi: at work, at McDonald’s, Starbuck’s, most chain
bookstores. It’s inescapable. We’re immersed in an ocean of invisible,
sperm-killing waves and fields and rays. I feel like the old fish who
swims by two young fish and as he passes them says, “The water’s nice
today, ain’t it, boys?” and the young fish look at each other and say,
“Water?” Most of us are oblivious of being steeped in this sinister
energy, shot through with these radioactive particles and rays. It’s a
wonder we’re not on fire.
Communication
towers spike the landscape; power lines form a “grid.” People with cell
phones attached to their heads “surf” on laptops. You can try to escape,
but your “smart phone” or “On Star” (or whatever device some nameless
“tech” has installed in your vehicle, perhaps without your knowledge) will
give you away. You will be found.
It’s Invasion
of the Body Snatchers.
Smoke, smog,
tornadoes, drug-addled knife- and gun-wielding criminals, speeding cars
with hormone-crazed teen-aged text-messaging drivers at the wheel—all of
these I can deal with. They’re not invisible. I can at least try
to get out of the way, but these dangers I can’t see, hear, feel, taste,
or touch?
The world’s
a microwave turned on “high.” There’s no timer, and I can’t pull the
plug. No amount of sunscreen, no lead suit, will help. And, Mom, I love
you, but my cell phone is nowhere near my front pants pocket, so don’t
bother calling.
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