I'm not sure what I think, as I am totally unqualified to make any conjectures into the field of unidentifiable objects. When I find such objects in my pantry, I throw them away and think no more of them. The grand exception to this practice is the Pantry Incident of September 2009 in which I unwittingly made cheap vodka from a bag of forgotten potatoes. After discarding the bag of smelly goo, I doused the area in anti-bacterial something or other. This created an odor that I hope to never meet again, and I was forced to generously sprinkle (dump) every box of baking soda I could find into the lower portion of my pantry. I lit an unknown amount of candles, and the kitchen appeared to be holding a vigil to the utterly deceased potatoes. I have yet to clean the hastily applied baking soda, because I would probably just make a larger mess. Additionally, the smell still lingers in a haunting sort of way, reminding me that pantry cleaning should probably be a weekly chore. My neighbors, who already think poorly of me, would no doubt swear in court that I have a cocaine business running right out of my own pantry. My neighbors have fake flowers planted in their yard, which makes them experts in all things proprietary.
Back to the Panamanian UO. What do you think? Part of me wonders if the kids went searching the garbage cans outside of the Panama Wax Museum and created something creepy. Otherwise, I'm of the opinion that environmental toxins makes sense. It could have been a sloth-like creature that met with a large bag of wasted potatoes. Once you've seen evidence of what oil spills and high lead contents can do, you have to at least agree that an animal mutation is possible.
I said that these kids sparked interesting debates on time travel. This isn't exactly true. But for some reason, when people talk about aliens, I always think of time travel. They don't have to be in the same thought category, and surely one could exist without the other. But I'm of the opinion that either one could be possible. There isn't concrete evidence to support those ideas, but for some reason that doesn't really bother me. I think of all the discoveries throughout human history that have been so 'out of the box': electricity, space travel, organ transplants...and I just don't have the heart to shut my mind's door on the possibility that anything can happen. (Yes, this does contribute to my anxiety levels. But it also makes me more creative.)
I learned early on that most Sunday School teachers do not share these views. "After all," they said, "wouldn't God have told us if there were other life forms?" I argued that God didn't tell us lots of things, but maybe thought it would be a good idea if we used our gift of a brain and tried to discover the vast mysteries and intricacies of the world. God didn't tell us that penicillin was a good idea. He let us discover that radioactivity could be a good thing and that Pluto is/is not a planet. I think it would be very dull indeed to live in a world where there is no mystery. How sad would it be to have nothing to grapple with or doubt? Anything really can be possible, even if it is just for a little while, until you (or someone smarter than you, hello Marie Curie!) prove otherwise.
So at least for now, I like to think that time travel is possible. I'm not sure why, but I think that God is into fantasy literature. Yes, he made things orderly. But he also made things straight up odd. We think of the body's process of oxygenating blood to be orderly. But that is only because we discovered that it has an order. Until then, it was fantastical and unknown, and could at any moment be changed! Don't you find that idea totally amazing and exhilarating?! No? Well...maybe you should go back a few centuries. I'll push you down a black hole worm tunnel when you aren't looking.
So now I've talked on and on about my potato blight and why I was shushed in Sunday School. I meant to talk about headline #2 for a bit. But it just might speak for itself.
Shoe Designer Christian Louboutin: "Barbie's ankles are too fat!"
Yes, he did. Perhaps he doesn't know she's fake? Shouldn't he first argue that she is painfully short, if concerned with her proportions? Why, when presented with the world's mysteries and concerns, would he think that anybody cares about plastic ankles? Is his life really that empty? Didn't he know that women around the world would mock him and his stupidity? At the same time, could he not see that he would make these women completely PISSED OFF?! I mean, her ankles are the size of my fingernail! WHAT on EARTH?! I've never been a huge Barbie fan, but I also don't want her to feel bad about herself. She's changed from being That Whore Next Door to Every Woman, and try as you might you just can't hate her. She's about 8963 steps up from those skanky Bratz dolls AND she has a job. She is the modern American woman, and there is just no reason to talk about her ankles. Her ankles are fine! Even if she had big scary cankles, surely we can think of better things to talk about...right?
In summary, I think that Christian Louboutin was environmentally poisoned by the potatoes in my pantry. His brain was addled and mutated, and now he sees the world around him as though looking through a fun house mirror. It might be humane to throw sticks and rocks at him until he gives up the ghost of his craziness on the banks of a Panamanian creek.
This blog brought to you from the future.