KYLE-AM .. Kyle In The Morning

By Michael Breckenridge

There’s been a lot of talk in the New York Times recently about the phenomenon of death by blogging. This is nothing to sneeze at. Unless you have a cold, like Russell Shaw (who according to the Times article died of blogging recently after he had “come down with something”), and then by all means, please. But use a hanky, a tissue or your sleeve as those recent health department commercials have demonstrated. We don’t all need to suddenly catch cold and die - really, seriously. Among other real or perceived wrongs I’d like to accuse it of, excess computer use apparently suppresses the immune system as well.

At any rate, what we are faced with in this country is a new phenomenon known as the SOLO: small office, lonely office. And it is within the confines of these self-imposed home-exiles that people are keeling over into the Big Sleep despite a full day’s supply of Vitamin Coffee. That’s why the bed’s next to the computer. I aspire to count myself among them, thanks to the Times article. I have a New York state of mind.

“I’ve been dead before.” — Spock

Death is not so unusual. In fact, it’s happening all around us. I had a NDE once, from being trapped in a snowstorm. Too bad it didn’t finish me off, because now I’m stuck behind the computer all the time, instead of doing dangerous things that could get me killed for a better reason than blogging. But let’s not discount the deleterious effects of the web - this is work. It’s a job. It can be fun at times, but let’s get real: there are bills to pay.

This is work. Did I say that already? Well, it’s still true. It involves sitting at a desk, typing into the computer, instead of kicking back, relaxing on a sunny day with a gentle breeze in a hammock tied between two palm trees with the surf crashing nearby. Those photos of people typing on wifi laptops with a cool drink on a tropical beach are such beautiful lies. There is a word in Japanese for dying at your desk for a reason - because it happens! Blogging is no exception.

I’m dying a little bit every day. It’s true! And someday, I’ll prove it, because I’ll be dead. And when I am, I expect I’ll be writing an email post like this one. Something like:

Subject: Death by Blogging
Body: Well, here I am: dead. The CSI said I’ve been dead for about eight hours now. COD was congestive blog failure. I had built up some mean callouses on my fingers and wore the letters off my keyboard from excess typing. Being unable to rip myself away from one more post, and looking like a bloated whale despite chronic malnutrition, I expired. Apparently the metadata of my life was set for no-cache, and so I am penniless as well. I had made up a cardboard sign that said: “Will blog for food”, but there was never any time to stand by the highway with it. There was always one more post to do. Too bad I was unable to compete with those kiddies eating a steady diet of tasty and nutritious silkworms. The high protein content gave them the strength and energy to out-post me, and their lower cost of living and government subsidies gave them an edge I didn’t have. But enough about me. I’m logging off for the last time now. Hey, look at that light! It’s so beautiful! Must go to it … yada yada yada

The preceding hypothetical posthumous blog post was a complete fiction known as link bait. It doesn’t represent me, anybody I know, or anybody you know, living, dead or zombies. Just another ten minutes of my life wasted, sitting at the computer. Sorry for wasting your time with my nonsense. Can we all just get along?

P.S. I once saw a New Yorker cartoon where one dog says to the other, “I had my own blog for a while, but I decided to go back to just pointless, incessant barking.”

By Michael Breckenridge

In a move that has United Nations officials worried about possible rate hikes and extending benefits to multiple life partners, animals used for the secret intelligence work of world governments have formed the Inter-Species Union of Covert Kludge Units (ISUCKU) at a conference today.

“Weer weer weer! (No longer will we be subjected to harsh and inhumane working conditions),” union boss and Secret Squirrel leader Ace Nut said. “Weer weer weer weeeeer wer weeer weer weer weer weeeeeeer! (We demand weekends off, no split day schedules, hazard pay for exceptionally dangerous situations, meaningful expense accounts, and adequate protection for our families while we are away).”

The conference was organized in response to the political fallout following the alleged capture and arrest of 14 Secret Squirrels by police in Iran.

“Weer weeer weer weer weeeer! (Our government sponsors have abandoned members of our families.) Weeeer weeer weer weeeer! (The lack of response is outrageous. This was a clandestine mission, not a covert one.) Weeer weer weer weer weeeer weeeeer! (Our sponsors should stand up and take responsibility and negotiate our comrades’ release),” Nut said.

The Secret Squirrels were joined by their comrades from the Cow Commandos, Bear Battalions, Killer Kitties, Diplomatic Dogs, Microphone Mice, Badgers of Basra, Kamikaze Camels, Pigeon Parachutists, Chemical Chickens, Defuser Dolphins, Jet Gerbils, Photo Fish, Berserker Bedbugs, Intelligence Iguanas, Hardware Horses, Mule Mascots, Radar Rabbits, Infantry Elephants, Logistics Lions, Poon Parakeets, Bomb Bats, Demolition Donkeys, Reconnaissance Raccoons, Marmot Marauders, Tasty Tigers, Camouflage Kangaroos, Fortress Foxes, Money Monkeys, Goat Go-Betweens, Deception Deer, Ration Rats, and Signal Snakes.

The ISUCKU conference was not without its own drama. Although the Diplomatic Dogs attempted to keep the Killer Kitties away from the Microphone Mice, they managed to use their cat cunning and sneak past, whereupon they discovered that the Microphone Mice are electronic USB devices and not actually alive.

The Infantry Elephants, initially tranquil in the presence of the Microphone Mice, thoughts of Timothy Q. Mouse, the famous friend of Dumbo on their minds, became alarmed at the idea that the mice were spying on the conference in a sort of Spy Vs. Spy game. The elephants trumpeted loudly and stampeded, crushing the Microphone Mice into silicon dust.

Radical Animal Rights activists attempted to enter the conference and “liberate” the attendees. The animals stormed the activists, cornering them at one end of the hotel ballroom where the conference was held.

“Weer weeeer wer weer weeer weer wer weeeer weer weeeeeeer! (You want to talk animal rights? We have the right to make a living and provide for our families. Why don’t you make yourselves useful and teach our jobless brethren in parks and zoos how to flip burgers or something. You’re probably good at that!),” Nut said.

The Cow Commandos hesitated for a moment at the squirrel’s statement to the humans.

“Ha! See? You don’t have the mandate you thought you had! Meat is murder!” the activists said.

“Moo,” the cows said.

“What’d she say?” an activist asked Nut.

“Weeer weer weeer! (They said forget it, they were just chewing their cud.)”

Dismayed at the cows’ fatalistic attitude, the activists opened a service access door in the wall behind them and made a hasty exit.