13 March 2007

The Squirrel Conspiracy goes deeper than you think...

I love squirrels. I'm not sure why, but seeing one as I walk through the park always fills me with a childish glee. I especially love the red variety that is native to this country, even if they are rarer than a 13 year old virgin in Llanrumney (I know you love it when I use Cardiff geography in my analogies, they told me) thanks to the north american grey sqiurrel. Seriously guys, its bad enough that you gotta spread yr sick, consumer/celebrity driven monoculture everywhere there's even a whiff of US-interest, but yr coulda left the squiggles alone, couldn't ya?

Yes, I call them squiggles. Like a 14 yearoldgirl who dyes her bangs, wears baby pink lipstick with black nail polish, and has a rucksac shaped like pikachu, so what? So what if I'm 24 and a guy, don't be so closed minded. Androgyny and repressed infantility is the new black. I saw it in an issue of Plan B, so it must be true.

Anyway, all this does have a point. BoingBoing have a lovely post on a pack of squirrels who jumped a dog who was barking at them. They then proceeded to disembowel and kill it.

From the BBC News website:

Passers-by were too late to stop the attack by the black squirrels in a village in the far east, which reportedly lasted about a minute.
They are said to have scampered off at the sight of humans, some carrying pieces of flesh.
A pine cone shortage may have led the squirrels to seek other food sources, although scientists are sceptical.

On top of this, they can also scream in ultrasonic. If this isn't enough to impress upon you then need to give squirrels the fear, respect and awe they deserve, then check this shit out: A first hand account of a squirrel attack I experienced whilst chilling in the castle grounds:


The Squirrel Conspiracy

They all thought I was mad
and wouldn't listen when I opened up
with tales of deviant woodland creatures.
They clearly thought I was off on an interplanetary trip
over the rainbow, down the yellow brick road and causing chaos in the emerald city,
sitting on the wizard of oz's lap, asking him to read me a bed-time story.
When I started telling them about the squirrel conspiracy they just chuckled
curiously and passed me another joint.

They refused to believe they were out for world domination
but that's when they strike see.

When your keeled over, laughing yourself into a slow coma, they leap out of kneelevel bushes, scurry down neck-straining trees, sitting, their thirsty eyes glistening in the sunlight
before darting-scurrying across the grass, blurring just below your field of vision
mounting your body like another oak or elm, first one, then two, then three, before rolling all over you as your grasping desperately at these blurry-furry motherfuckers who are ripping you open like there is no tomorrow.

Then your down on the ground pulse tripping-skipping frantic butterfly beats replaced by silence.
They drag you slowly out of sight to do fuck knows what with you while I watch
recoiled, up on my feet, round the roundabout and down the garden path
melting in front of cathode ray spirits and trying to forget what I've just seen
even though I can't, image burnt so hard into my retina of pyschotic tree-dwelling killers
that no amount of the simpsons can soothe the updown panic making the rounds round my nervous system.
Some things you just can't blot out.

They never believe in the squirrel conspiracy
untill it's too late.
Maybe next time they will.


If all this talk of blood thirsty land-mammals has made you somewhat nervous, then you should get yourself some squirrel webzen. Sort you right out.