Sunday, July 31, 2011

Shark Week 2011 (Day 1)

Last year, I did a week-long tribute to sharks in celebration of Shark Week.  Day 1 can be found here.  This year, I am going to try to do the same thing, because I hate being unpredictable.  There may be less shark porn this year, but no promises.

SHARK FACT: The smallest shark is the dwarf lanternshark.  Averaging at around 7 inches, the dwarf lanternshark is the pipsqueak of the shark community.  Yes, 7 inches.  Let's quickly list off other things that are larger than a dwarf lanternshark:
  • Beanie Babies
  • Large novelty pencils
  • Mini Me
  • 7.1" rulers
  • A shit I found in the men's room last week
Dwarf lanternsharks are so small that any picture you see of them requires a disclaimer: "Enlarged to show texture."  It's possible you've eaten a dwarf lanternshark, mistaking it for a sardine on your pizza.  Also, if you know of any restaurant that serves shark on its pizzas, feel free to leave the address in the comment section below.

You may be relieved to know that dwarf lanternsharks do not pose any real threat to humans, except for occasionally getting in a person's eye who believes it's a speck of dust.

When I first read the name "dwarf lanternshark," this was the image in my head.
For more shark trivia, please come back tomorrow.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

The RWBB Follow-up


[Published recently in The Grand Valley Lanthorn.  I re-added the FAKE editorial notes.  The editorial notes are not real.  I need to be very clear that my editor did NOT write the notes.  (This was the reason the notes weren't published.)]

Earlier this month, I was attacked in the head by a bird.

I’ll give you a minute to stop laughing and collect yourself.

Yes, red-winged blackbirds have taken over West Campus Drive and no one is safe.

People may be shocked to know that Grand Valley State University has become overrun by Jaws of the air, and it seems psycho to me that no horror movie has been made about dangerous birds.  [Ed. note: Please do more research before submitting columns, Chris.]

This is nothing new to me, though, and I have made peace with the fact that these birds have taken residence on my usual jogging route.  I can no longer sculpt my finely-toned legs.  [The Grand Valley Lanthorn is not responsible for inaccurate statements made by Chris Slattery.]

Unfortunately, while I am aware of these angry birds, most people around campus are not.  I have only managed to warn a few lucky college-age passersby that they were about to enter a collegiate [Not the proper use of that word] version of “When Animals Attack.”

Since the beginning of the summer, though, someone has placed a well-intentioned sign near the 48th Ave. intersection.  While I appreciate the effort to warn pedestrians of the dangerous birds, the word choice doesn’t emphasize the potential for kamikaze strikes.

“Be Aware, Nesting Red Winged Black Birds” is what the sign says, and is—in its own way—completely accurate.  However, referencing a “nesting” bird does not terrify people as much as, say, an “evil” or “psychotic” bird.  A sign like this is reminiscent of a sign on Jurassic Park (the second half of the movie) that identifies the creature that is about to assault/attempt-to-maim you, even though it is already too late.

Besides, “aware” doesn’t really mean anything.  People are “aware” of high cholesterol; they are “aware” of their own mortality; and they are “aware” that every Bon Jovi song sounds the same.  What they should not be “aware” of is a flock of nesting red-winged blackbirds—they should be “alert,” or “armed.” 

I say this because “nesting” does not mean building a nest.  Instead, it means that the birds are raising and protecting their offspring.  And apparently, red-winged blackbirds not only guard their nest, but a county-wide vicinity around the nest, which in this instance includes the majority of West Campus Drive and a decent segment of the bordering golf courses.

Perhaps the strangest piece of information is that these bird refrain from attacking when you keep eye contact.  Evidently, the only game that red-winged blackbirds enjoy more than head-tag is a good old-fashioned staring contest.  They also enjoy thumb wars.  [They have no thumbs.]

Of course, while this tactic has worked for me on several occasions, I am in no way suggesting that this works for everyone and do not accept responsibility for anyone who takes this advice for granted.  I’m sure the Lanthorn feels the same way.  [We do.]

I am not saying that GVSU needs to eradicate all red-winged blackbirds, a bird whose only crime is protecting the future of its species.  Instead, there should be clearer warnings that state that this behavior gives birds a bad name.  [That was a weak Bon Jovi reference.  Please revise.]