It was a mild autumn evening in the Windy City. Wednesday Night in late October, our weekly Yoga class had just finished another session. The Beautiful People chatted serenely and gathered to be a little nearer the “Guru of State Street”. Charley Wells, great-grandson of H.G. himself, and I, preferred to depart rapidly. We were the first one’s down the elevator which brought Seekers to and from the seventh floor penthouse Temple on the top of a six floor building. We very quickly were out the door and on our way down to the El stop at State and Randolph. The elevated trains of Chicago, which ride the skyline on tracks built about twenty feet off the ground, is a subway in the downtown area known as the loop. The spirit of a race had affected us as we dashed out, and I found myself a good distance ahead of Charley.

As I approached the turn-style, I noticed a uniformed Policeman stood blocking the pathway made by the stanchions. At once this cop seemed different. Something more than not being heavy set with large jowls, the stereo-type Mayor Daley cop. He was not only very small and thin but didn’t project a particular dullness that I’d become used to from most of the force I’d seen.

Then I noticed a powerful glaze over his sparkling eyes. He beamed a very startling grin directly at me as he extended his hand, obviously wishing to shake hands with me. I felt very suspicious of this ‘out of character’ response from a total stranger. Though over four years had past since the ‘Chicago Riot’ of ‘68, the memory still lingered. Especially the feeling of distrust in the local Police Department toward any young man sporting shoulder length hair.

Just then, as I shook hands with Law Enforcement, my friend caught up with me. He had many of the same feelings toward those who were supposed to ‘Serve and Protect’.

Looking much like a male Goldilocks,with yellow ringlets draping over his home-made sheepskin mountain coat, he snapped at me, “What are you doing shaking hands with him?”

“He had his hand out,” I retorted. The cop smiled devilishly at me. “Your friend is a little uptight isn’t he.”

“Come over here,” he said as he led us away from the nonexistent traffic of the turn-style.

“I demand to know what this is about, I have my rights”, said Charley.

“It’s just routine, I’ve gotta ask ya a few questions, its just routine,” he repeated.

“I work for State’s Attorney Hanrahan, I have my rights, I demand to know what this is about.” Pleaded Charley.

“Jeez, your friend is uptight,” The officer quipped, smirking at me. Then turning to Charley he repeated, “It’s just routine, I have to ask you a few questions, what is your name?”

“Charles Richard Wells,” said my friend.

The cop went on to ask him his address, where he worked and so on. All the while enjoying Charley’s discomfort and smirking at me as though I was an old friend sharing in his game of messing with the mind of ‘Joe Civilian’.

After telling him my name he asked me what my address was. To this I replied,”Void.”

He said, “What do you mean void?”

I told him I had just moved out of my apartment so my address was now void.

“Where did you stay last night?”

“In a U-Haul Van behind my friends house,” I said.

His joking around seemed tempered as he wrote ‘none’ in the space provided for the address. I hadn’t noticed any switch from his buddy-buddy joviality so I said, “Thats not how you spell void.” His Heckle and Jive disposition became apparent as he began to scowl.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a teacher,” I answered.

“Where was the last place you taught at,” He asked.

“On the highway earlier today,” I responded in absolute detailed honesty, thinking of the girl I had been tutoring as I drove down the Expressway. He must have thought this to be pure BS and became visibly angry.

Not really listening to the words, wishing I was no longer in this situation, and feeling bullied by a total unmitigated belligerence, I opted to escape.

At the appropriate pause, I merely turned and ran to the steps leading down to the awaiting trains. My only thought was to dash onto a train and be gone. Subconscious fears of being shot in the back slowed me down. For what? I couldn’t imagine. Could it be a major crime to tutor an astrology student while driving down the FREEway.

As I briskly stepped down the stairs, the Officer at full sprint caught me easily. Grabbing my arm firmly he said, “Are you coming with me?”

Not having much choice I said, “I guess so.”

He led me back up the steps to the old stone station lobby. Under protest from Charley, the officer was joined by his colleague in the matter of frisking us down. As we were about to assume the position, down from the street level, approximately six to eight students finally caught up with us in this most embarrassing situation.

“Hey what are you doing with those guys, there good guys.” The girl in the lead spoke out succinctly. Charley seized the moment to directly question the goings on which apparently were getting us arrested. Being an extremely volatile speaker and quite demonstrative with his hands, he shouted in the cops face, “This is your public, aren’t you going to face your public?” All the while extending his arm with five outstretched fingers, as though pointing to the now bewildered group waiting to see what was happening to their fated friends.

The redundancy of our predicament overwhelmed me, I said, “Take it easy, he’s liable to shoot us.” hoping to calm Charley down so that what I’d said might remain an exaggeration.

Just then a familiar person came down the stairs right next to us. It was Mike, the Secretary of the Seminary we were attending.

“Where are you taking these guys?” He asked. “Eleventh and State”, replied the fat cop that was my mad smiler’s partner.

He turned to leave as I called, “See ya Mike.” This seemed to startle him slightly as I casually anticipated his help in resolving this, now tiring, situation.

After a quick frisk, we were escorted up to the street level to an awaiting patty-wagon. My smiling chum in blue got in first. Then Charley and I got in. Suddenly, with the door still open, Mike appeared. “Here”, he said shoving his hand toward Charley. “The Swami wants to bail you guys out”, he said as the door was closed. Then I witnessed the most unusual conversation as Charley decided the time would be well spent messing up the mind and generally irritating the officer who’s duty seemed to involve harassing ‘long-hairs’ in the subway.

“I think you’d probably have to give up your uniform, but I think I could get you into a really comfortable place in one of the mental rehabilitation units I know of.”

“No,” the officer responded, seemingly nonplussed, “My Psychiatrist thinks this job is good for me, it helps me get out my frustrations.” On precisely the same wavelength as my friend. Charley said something to undermine his basic self-worth, pushing the point, facetious as it may be, that this cop was nuts! Then Charley started in on me, expressing more of his exasperation about the pickle we were in, corny and as unbelievable as it seemed,”Why did you tell him you lived in Void Space?”

“I didn’t, I told him my address was void,” I argued.

Now I felt somehow responsible for this officer’s peculiar game. At Eleventh and State, the downtown lockup, we were placed in a receiving room to await processing. It was a moderate size room, with fold-out institution tables in two rows, forming the seating area for alleged felons and others awaiting there fate. In front of these tables was a large desk with two plainclothes detectives working on papers to place two unusual criminals in the slammer. The two ‘gentlemen’ in question were skid row bums who could have easily been rounded up by the hundreds in a casual walk from State Street up Madison Avenue for about ten blocks. Whatever the crime of these two, I had no idea, but noticed the strange fact that both of these wino’s were reading their own Bible. I wondered how dangerous can two old farts be, dedicated drunk, nearly unable to walk, sitting reading there Bibles. The two detectives and our smiling buddies partner, the fat cop, we telling some dirty jokes. As the color of the joke became particularly filthy I was completely struck with the contrast, the polarity, the irony….holy dichotomy batman. Two bums reading Bibles, and a pair and a half of cops uttering sickening filth. Dualities aside, I was shocked at what was then said. One of the Plainclothes turned to the fat cop and asked,”What are these guys in for?”

“Ah, Jimmy just had a coupla reefs and these guys gave ‘em some lip,” was his exact reply. We were then led to the intake desk which was actually a window where they relieved you of everything in your pockets, less you’d be seized with an urge to gag yourself with your comb or some such article. As soon as we were put in a cell, Charley began some kind of sing-song chanting that got a real good reaction from whomever it was in all those little cages. The chorus was echoing in full volume as my feeling of hopelessness reached it’s peak. I then withdrew, a mere four feet to the back of the cell. I stood on my head for about fifteen minutes before they released us, in some unknown automatic way. Presumably because twenty-five dollars each had been removed from our belongings.

Upon being sprung, we were given a Court date on which we should be judged for this heinous crime of living in void space, though still an unproven allegation. About a month later, as the eve of our appointed Court appearance approached, I arranged to spend the night at a clinic Charley worked at. He was coming in to work all night, in residence. I was left in the lobby area near the front door. It was furnished with a couch and a T.V. up front. With a desk for the twenty-four-hour Hotline that was staffed by volunteers. I became bored with television so I curled up on the couch and went to sleep.

Awakened early by Charley, we went downtown for our day in Court. As we were called to the bench the word came down to the Bailiff, a uniformed Sargeant of Chicago’s finest. Our smiling buddy had been on duty all night, but wanted us held till he arrived because he was going to burn us on this case. I couldn’t imagine what grounds there could be for any case he might be fabricating. Finally the arresting smiley cop came in looking like death warmed over. He was wearing very dark sunglasses, behind which I could see his eyes were sunk and blackened. I only guessed what level of self abuse this strange bird was now subjecting himself to.

I had no idea of any ace up our collective sleeve, but was then surprised. Charley turned to him, as he occupied the seat, more like church pews, directly behind us. Handing him a business card the cop reeled back, visibly shaken, “He wants you to call him,” Charley said.

“What’s he want me to call him for?” He blurted out.

“He just wants to talk to you,” my friend replied.

The next thing I knew we were on our way up to the lobby. I figured the guy on the card must be pretty much of a heavy weight, but I didn’t even know who was the Head of Criminal Investigations. I knew Charley had connections, but never anticipated quite this reaction from a character bent on having us prosecuted on such arbitrary grounds. Charley handed the card to the officer again. After dialing the number he began rambling about the trouble we had given him in the subway, which he referred to as the ‘tubes’. Charley took the phone and without holding back or mincing words, explained what really happened, calling this a pure case of harassment. Handing the phone back to the cop, who listened somberly, nodding in reluctant agreement with what he was being told, obviously quite let down. We walked back in, barely genuflecting at our seats, as our names were called again. The smiling cop was now whispering something to the Bailiff/Sargeant who responded with a large nod, indicating he understood. We were in front of the bench immediately. The Bailiff turned to the Judge, sliding the paper about our alleged crime toward him. The Judge was an eightyish gentleman wearing Ben Franklin bifocals, the kind with only the bottom half of a pair of glasses. In a very audible tone the Sargeant said, “We’ll take a left knee on this one.”

The Judge mumbled, “Dismissed”, without looking up, seemingly very detached and totally uninterested. I wondered if he could even see across the bench. I was nearly certain he had never seen us, let alone knew absolutely nothing about this case. The most perfect example of blind justice since Julius Hoffman. Looking back, I often wonder what a ‘right knee’ might have meant, but thankful I would never have to find out.

Address: Void, a short story by Bob Metivier.

On New Years Eve, over 5000 red-winged blackbirds fell dead from the sky. The birds fell over a several mile radius near Beebe, Arkansas. While dead birds falling from the sky is not unprecedented, such a large quantity over such a small area is alarming. According to lab test results, there was no sign of disease in the bodies of the birds. There was evidence of mass trauma, especially in the breast tissue.

While officials try to explain the incident with theories of fireworks, lightning strikes, and high altitude hail storms, others are not convinced. After all, fireworks go off every year all over the world. None of the birds were singed or burned. Also, why was only one species affected?

Less than a week later, another incident occurred. About 100 miles from Beebe, along a 20 mile stretch of the Arkansas River, over 100,000 Drum fish were found dead. Officials think it could be some sort of concentrated disease. However, they were quick to assure the public there was no contamination of the water supply. Some are claiming the fish died from cold water after a recent cold-snap. Again, why was only one species affected?

A quick look here shows that this type of event is happening all over the world. For example, 100 jackdaws in Sweden, over 1000 doves in Italy, and blackbirds dying off in Kentucky, Louisiana, Texas and other Southeastern States. While some of the events can be easily explained by natural phenomena, others are more mysterious. I’m not saying these events are all related or caused by the same thing, but there is an awful lot of mass animal deaths lately.

It seems like everybody has there own theory about what caused the deaths. Lets take a look at some of the more prominent theories in no particular order.

• Corexit – oil spill dispersant used by BP in the gulf. This was the first guess by many, but unless we’re being lied to about the test results of the bird and fish carcasses, Corexit was not the cause of death.
• Starlicide or gull toxicant – an avicide usually sprayed in December and January. It does target specific types of birds, but wouldn’t explain the fish. Again, unless we’re being lied to about the test results of the bird carcasses, Starlicide was not the cause.
• The rising amount of WiFi networks – While there are some possible health issues related to being immersed in radio waves from WiFi networks, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence pointing to this as a the cause.
• HARRP – No, I don’t mean “The Housing Authorities Risk Retention Pool.” I’m talking about the “High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program” which operates an ionospheric research facility located in Gakona, Alaska. The stated goal of the program is “to further advance our knowledge of the physical and electrical properties of the Earth’s ionosphere which can affect our military and civilian communication and navigation systems.” Similar systems also exist at other locations around the world.
• LRAD – a “Long Range Acoustic Device” can be used as a sonic weapon. Could the fish have been the target of an LRAD test? LRADs are already being used by Governments for crowd control purposes.
• The Apocalypse – Mass die offs could be a sign of the coming “End of Times” if you are inclined to believe in that sort of thing. I am not.
• Chemtrails – are shrouded in mystery themselves. Nobody seems to know exactly what they are, or what they’re being used for. They could be part of a weather control system, a communications system, or some sort of chemicals or biological agents deliberately sprayed at high altitudes for a purpose unknown to the public.
• New Madrid Seismic Zone – Natural seismic activity or perhaps hydraulic fracture drilling along this fault line may have released Methane gas. This could deplete the oxygen level from the water and cause the fish to suffocate. This could also have been ignited by fireworks to spook the birds.
• GMO mutation – Perhaps some of Monsanto’s nearby Genetically Modified Organisms mutated into something deadly to fish.

What do you think? Leave a comment below if you have a different theory or know of any that I missed.

After a lot of research and weighing all the prominent theories, I’m still not sure what caused the mass deaths. Though, it seems most likely to be the result of some sort of electro-magnetic energy weapon or weather control system such as HARRP. A similar weapon using a sonic pulse could be devastating to fish as well.

With all the variables, it’s hard to say for sure. One thing is certain, there is no doubt that we are living in strange times.

Meet the RealDoll. Created in 1996 by Abyss Creations, these lifelike dolls constructed from silicon and a metal interior skeleton have infiltrated the sex industry. They are hauntingly lifelike with smooth skin that can adjust to external temperatures. Their skin is also able to be painted with non oil-based makeup. They come in all shapes and sizes and are custom made to fit the desires of Abyss Creations’ diverse and eager clientele. The doll has made it a long way since its’ birth in 1996—now, they are less prone to scuffs and scrapes, as the company continuously makes new improvements on the prototype. Creator Matt McMullen created the real life sex doll while still harboring dreams of becoming a musician. He started off making Halloween masks, and then his passion for sculpting lead him to creating models of women, which in turn left him bombarded with emails about the possibility of creating a doll designed for sex.

Alas, a new breed of woman was born. Emulating the bodies of supermodels and well endowed porn stars, the real life dolls are purchased by bachelors, couples, and even women. Abyss also added an assembly of male dolls to the mix. The company is also willing to delve further into the abyss of provocation by selling custom made dolls with hermaphroditic features. It’s nice to know there is a doll for everyone.

So what is it about these dolls that have men dishing out $6,000 a pop? They don’t say anything (although Abyss did have a doll in the past that had automated responses activated by sensory receptors under the skin, but those were discontinued…most likely due to their lack of engaging conversation) and they take up a lot of space. It can be speculated that men enjoy their company because they don’t complain, have bodies that normal women are too lazy to obtain, and they can’t get pregnant or pass around any venereal diseases. Wouldn’t it be less expensive to pay for the company of a night prowler instead?

It seems that Realdolls are here to stay. One of the models, Bianca, had a “leading roll” in the film “Lars and the Real Girl” alongside co-star Ryan Gosling. Gosling plays a milquetoast guy who purchases a Realdoll from the website and has a relationship with it (like playing house, only he wasn’t really playing) and everyone in the town goes along with the absurdity. Photographer Elena Dorman featured the Realdoll in a collection of photos, and they even made appearances in shows “Nip Tuck” and the 2003 film “Love Object” starring Desmond Harrington.

Will this new-found interest in sexing silicone babes with remy hair and lawn chair innards deconstruct the real image of women in the world? There’s only one way to find out. Order your Realdoll today for only $5,999 and $500 shipping and handling! And if you order your doll using a check or money order, you get $150 knocked off!

Do I really want to eat a dog, such loyal creatures that I was raised with and looked at as members of my family? Could I really chew on meat that was once covered in hair meant for caressing and snuggling with? Today, I’ll say “why not.” I have to say to myself “you don’t give your bacon a name or face while it’s laying in grease on your plate in the morning… so what’s different with a dog? If I don’t ponder my beef’s love of kisses and sweet alfalfa before it got shot, buttered, and breaded, perhaps I won’t with a dog!”

If you look at the facts, many countries across the globe consume dog meat and consider it a delicacy. While in some countries dog meat was used strictly as a means of survival, there are many countries who still consume it and it has varying degrees of acceptability. Tonga, an archipelago in the South Pacific, view dog meat as a delicacy. The Swiss enjoy dog jerky and dog sausage on their menus, and dogs are eaten by various groups in Nigeria and are linked to having medicinal powers.

My research on whether or not the whole “dogs are a main staple in the South Korean diet” is true has actually surprised me. They do eat dogs and it is very common to find dog on the menu over there. Like our farms here that breed cows and pigs and chickens for consumption, South Korea has dog farms. The South Korean dog meat industry involves over one million dogs and several thousand restaurants. Ten percent of the population eats dog meat. There is pressure from animal activists worldwide for the South Korean government to discontinue the dog meat industry because it’s “inhumane and moral.”

Eating a dog is a question of morals to me because I was raised in a country where people spend more money on their animals than what some can afford to spend on their own children. We take them to get groomed, we dress them in rhinestone costumes, we invest money into their vet bills…the VIP treatment continues, however it wasn’t until recently that South Koreans started to share our affection for these creatures and start to see them as pets and companions. It is simple to them, though. There are dogs who are raised in the city as pets, and there are dogs in the country who are bound to be stir fry.

It’s funny when I say “yes, I will probably taste dog” to some people. I watch them gasp and cringe, but quickly explain that it really is no different than enjoying the salmon on your plate while your pet beta fish floats blissfully in its bowl on the coffee table. It’s not much different than the lamb that nudges you for pets at the petting zoo, and you want to take him home with you (to be cuddled, not cooked!) just because he is too damn cute. If I do happen to try the dog, I’ll try not to think of the fat, tight little bellies of nursing puppies or the lapping kisses that they just love to plant on our cheeks. I’ll just try to enjoy the marinade.

Drennen, also known as Fergus the Forager, is known for eating road kill. He has an extensive knowledge of organic ingredients and used to source high end restaurants with quality wild food for a living. After realizing that his lifestyle was counter intuitive to the principles of environmentalism, he quit working for restaurants and started teaching seminars that teach people the art of foraging. Drennen is even writing a cookbook and has a website devoted to wild recipes, plants, and sustainability.

If you’re imagining Drennen as an unpolished country bumpkin peeling rotted badger carcasses from the back roads, think again. The successful young Brit says that while squirrel, badger, pheasant, and seagulls are only a handful of the delicacies he prepares, Drennen assures that he does not eat something that has been rotting for days in the sun.

“If the animal is already dead I’m not part of that system,” he told ABC news. “I see it just as a resource like other things I find in the wild.” Drennen doesn’t approve of the slaughter of animals.

Drennen’s cookbook includes pheasant garnished with cuckoo flower, pan braised squirrels, and badger burgers. He even concocted a green wild leaf curd egg in honor of Doctor Suess. While he claims to never have gotten sick from eating road kill, he does insist on taking a worm supplement.

So will this new trend join the ranks of vegetable oil fueled hybrid cars and Samsung solar power cell phones? Drennen already has a following of foragers that sign up for his courses—he even offers course deals in Christmas packages! While the thought of road kill as a delicacy brings to mind a badger corpse emblazoned with tread marks and cooked over a campfire, Drennen’s menu may have the possibility to convince the palate and mind otherwise. Who knows. Maybe skunk fried steaks and gopher fritatas will be haute cuisine for the green people!