Tuesday, September 16, 2008

What you might not think of is often the most amazing thing ever

Saw this pic on Yahoo news today.

Fish. In a fence! What the Sam Hill?

This is a type of natural disaster aftermath that I would never have thought of. Would you? Oh sure, I'd think of the floodwaters receding and having to clean up mud and debris, but fish? In the chain link? Never.

Another picture from Texas shows THOUSANDS of fish in a highway median. At first I thought they were paving stones or something brick-like, but nope - them was fish. It must stink to high heaven 'round those parts right about now, what with the fishies doing their decompositiony thing there in the middle of the road. And the flies, oh my, they must be awful. Seagulls, buzzards, crows must be having a field day, but alls I'm thinking of is the icky stank of those thousands of fish baking under the hot Texan sun.

Mmmm, fish.


Speaking of decomposition, there was a bit of dinner conversation last night that revolved around that very topic. After Thing 1 proclaimed that upon dying most people either pee or poop, a door was opened into what other amazing things supposedly dead bodies can do. The Things were much surprised to learn that bodies can burp and fart after the dearly departed has left the building.

More specifically, or rather more correctly, a decomposing body will undergo a liquefaction process as tissue breaks down by a combination of bacteria and enzyme action. These liquefied substances of a decaying body can be highly volatile. They can create gases. Under the right circumstances, these gases can cause a small explosion.

Explosions! Way more cool than burping after your time to go has come and gone.

So, now you know what to expect from casual banter if you ever come over for dinner at my house.

We save discussions of politics and the warlike nature of modern man for brunch.


And just then? I got caught up in looking at the pictoral descriptors of death that can be found on Google images. Fascinating, but I have to get back to work. Or, TO work, because it's a slow morning, what with the clouds and rain and general feeling like I've done this all before and just for once can't my day start with something unusual like a unicorn making rainbow-colored whole wheat flapjacks while gnomes clean the baseboards with cotton-candy scented bleach so that the Queen of Cartoons won't be appalled when she comes over to give me a footrub and watch bad daytime teevee starring a pack of anthropomorphized monkeys bathing chipmunks in tuxedos?

How hard would THAT be, universe?


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