We Can't Stop Here! This Is Bat Country!

I would have imagined yesterday that the highlight of my day would've been seeing the Flaming Lips live (a full review is forthcoming, but in a word: freakin' awesome), but somehow something much crazier than dancing Santas and Martians throwing confetti at me happened. What I will now describe is the absolute truth, and has not been embellished in any shape or form. Because that would be lying, and lying is wrong.


I was in the den, preparing to watch the rest of "The Colbert Report" before I went to bed. I was just settling into the couch, when out of the corner of my eye I saw something fluttering in the kitchen. At first I thought it was a dragonfly or something similar, but I realized it was much too large. I got up slowly to take a more careful look, when I was shocked to see that I had a goddamn bat in my kitchen, going absolutely apeshit. I slammed the door to the den, and paused to collect myself. After a few moments' consideration, I decided that my first best action was to text message a presumably-sleeping Joe Reefer as to my predicament. After all, what the hell kind of sane person is still awake at 2 am?

There's a bat in the house. It has scared the shit out of me.

I then decided at some point I had to confront the threat head-on, mainly because I didn't feel like sleeping in the den. So I came up with a plan to try and guide the bat outside through the door in the kitchen. At my disposal was the only thing at hand, a pillow. This was not really a helpful thing, but I felt better covering up my face with it as I prepared to combat the flying verminrodent. I then slowly made my way into the kitchen, inching along the wall and attempting to exeunt the bat through the door to the garage. That did not work, as the bat didn't fly into that direction. So I switched strategies on the fly, moving along to the door to the deck on the other side of the kitchen, pausing several times as the bat divebombed its way towards me on several occasions.

After multiple unsuccessful attempts to prop the safetybar up, I finally was able to open the door. I yelled at the bat, Get OUT, thinking that English was of course the bat's natural language. Meanwhile, my cat Rambo decided that now was the perfect time to come into the house, and he ducks on in. After the bat does another couple of loops through the room, Rambo JUMPS UP and knocks the bat down. I paused, concerned for my cat's well-being, and slowly make my way over to check on him. I then see my cat happily finishing up eating the bat. And you know what? All he wanted in return was a bellyrub and to sleep on my bed. I complied.

I relayed the information to Joe Reefer, and he responds the next morning with a brilliant summation of the entire episode:

Holy crap! Rambo is a badass

Yes, indeed he is.

Your Hard-Hitting Local News! (Jesus Christ, This is Retarded)

The Local News has always been a target of mine. Embarrassingly innocuous at best, downright incompetent at worst, the Local News fills a void that none of us really have, unless your name is Mabel and you're tired of talking to your seven cats. At least the Local News gives you a brief respite from the terror that is conversation with Mr. Johnathan Mittens the Tabby at 6 and 11 every night. And for this, Mabel is satisfied.

I ultimately realized the general idiocy of local news one day when I saw a preview for an upcoming feature that night: we were about to be treated to an EXCLUSIVE! LOOK! at the life of a DOG CATCHER! My greatest questions have been answered, finally, by WBRZ of Baton Rouge! Praise Be! I have no problem with dog catchers--they perform a necessary service. But no, I was not dying to find out what went on in their normal routine. Call me crazy, but I imagine it involved driving around in a van, picking up the occasional stray, and not doing anything. It was a story that at least did not require advance notice.

I thought perhaps I had escaped the general idiocy of local news when I moved to the Pacific Northwest. Actually, beyond the first week where we were stuck with only broadcast channels and we watched the local news out of sheer boredom, I avoided the news. CNN and the newspaper were good enough resources. But only a few months after the move I was once again confronted with unimaginable ridiculousness:



TONIGHT AT 11!

A DAY

IN THE LIFE

OF A DOG CATCHER!!!



Dear God. It's inescapable!

I would have thought that local news' saving grace would be perhaps the big city. I've been spending my summer in DC, and one would imagine that local news would not be nearly as bad. I mean, it's our nation's capital! Government is here! Shit goes DOWN! No Dog Catcher Biographies for us!

Once again, I totally overestimated everything (or underestimating? I am not sure as to what I was estimating exactly, I'm kind of vague here. Suggestions are appreciated). Once again without cable, my nights are spent watching the broadcast channels. While this has had terrible consequences itself (I actually watched multiple episodes of CSI:Boise and Law & Order:Meter Maid Patrol (whoo! cheap stupid jokes!)), I was once again exposed to local news. While news of what's going on over on the Hill certainly was reviewed, we also were able to cover such important news as that THERE WAS A GODDAMN THUNDERSTORM. WITH LIGHTNING. AND PEOPLE SAW THE LIGHTNING. They were even interviewing people about the lightning. I shit you not, this was an actual caption of an on-air interview:

John Standen
SAW LIGHTNING

I don't know if this is worse than the hard-hitting exposés that have been featured on back-to-back weeks on the local FOX affiliate. They've uncovered the secret behind the "5-Second Rule" last week, and today be prepared to be astounded as to whether "Double Dipping" goes beyond mere social faux pas!


Why did I ever go to J-School?