Author Archives: Chad Philip

Nacho Average Casserole

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As the Coronavirus pandemic looms, I decided to make a trip to Costco to try and add some food to my half-empty cupboards. I discovered that a lot of important items were nowhere to be found, which wasn’t terribly surprising. For example, all of the loaves of bread and packages of chicken were gone, and none of the canned goods were left except for chili and garbanzo beans.

I did happen to notice, however, that there was plenty of dog food, ¡Que Bueno! nacho cheese, and Mr. Yoshida’s Marinade and Cooking Sauce. This is an interesting combination of foodstuffs that may take on greater meaning in times of increased panic and hysteria. We’re not there yet—so far in America the worst food supply problem is due to a bunch of assholes buying much more than they need which then causes others go without. (As a side note, many of these same assholes are quarantining at home and have no idea what to do so they eat more food than usual; Americans could possibly end up with an even greater obesity problem when this whole Coronavirus thing eventually blows over.)

I would be more than a little excited to see how people would react to much harsher circumstances—that is, where things take a very uncomfortable turn and a large portion of the population must supplement its daily meals with dog food or whatever in order to manage. Personally, this is a sacrifice I would be willing to make, especially if it meant we got to see Food Network hosts like Rachel Ray making their best efforts at crowd control by showing people how to properly marinate kibble, mix in cheese sauce, and then bake for 35 minutes at 375° for a pandemic-appropriate casserole dish. The term “Costco Cuisine” would take on an entirely new meaning and the world would truly never be the same again… and this would actually be a good thing.

Feeding Time for the (Brain) Dead

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Humor sometimes comes at a price: the person recording this video went home paperless.

Legitimizing the Irresponsible and Weak-Minded

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Wouldn’t it be nice if governments were somehow able to pull a report of every moron, imbecile, idiot, and dunce who has been hoarding toilet paper in response to the COVID-19 coronavirus outbreak? Leaders could then distribute this information to hospitals, health services providers, and insurance companies to ensure that these people are put at the end of the line for any medical treatment they might need.

This ruse started through social media in Japan when some pranksters were able to convince people that the raw materials for surgical masks and toilet paper are the same, and that almost all of the toilet paper in Japan comes from China icon-external-link-12x12. This misinformation quickly spread from continent to continent which spurred armies of nimrods to stockpile all of the world’s toilet paper reserves. In fact, it happened so fast, that people outside of Japan didn’t even know why they were buying toilet paper: they just had a vague sense that it was somehow important.

Two women wearing surgical masks and carrying multiple giant bags of toilet paper. [Formatted]

First of all, toilet paper isn’t going to do jack shit to protect someone from a virus, and this should be immediately apparent to anyone with a modicum of intelligence. The only thing toilet paper is good for is wiping ass, and for blowing one’s nose when there isn’t a handkerchief icon-external-link-12x12 or kleenex around. If a person can be convinced that toilet paper can protect someone from an viral outbreak, what else is he or she capable of believing? That rubbing a dead fish on one’s face will remove pimples and promote clear skin? That the more USB drives that are plugged in to a computer the faster it goes? That a weekly colonic with celery juice will add years to one’s life?

Secondly, if toilet paper were somehow a secret armor that protected against the coronavirus, why would a person need hundreds upon hundreds of rolls? Pretending for a moment that you are not a complete dolt, are you really that much more important than everyone else? You get to have all of the protection for yourself and other people get to go without? Fact is, you have a selfish, meaningless, half-baked existence, and your pneumonia-riddled dead body should be cremated in a pile of flaming Charmin.

This begs the question: in a time of crisis, why should rational people have to compete for the same resources and aid as irrational people? The former group will be more responsible and considerate, and will promote stability and reason in times of confusion and chaos; the latter group, however, can only react and contribute to the panic and misinformation around them. Yet, even in the world’s most advanced democracies, both camps are treated 100% equally.

This is essentially why I tend not to vote: the input of an informed and well-reasoned individual can be immediately canceled out by an impetuous one. I can spend 15-30 minutes or more per day staying on top of politics, assessing problems objectively, and yet somehow my input has the same validity as someone who signed up to vote at the last minute at a booth in a mall outside of Old Navy. This is completely fucked!

Hopefully in the coming decades, when there is another and possibly more serious outbreak, and when computer systems across industry and government are more thoroughly interconnected, we will be able to tell who all the self-serving fear-minded shitheads are by a fancy database query. Then, as they’re waiting at the back of the line for the treatment they desperately need, they can think really hard about why they don’t matter as much as everyone else.

By Then He Would Have Made It a Part of Their Belief System

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Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator icon-external-link-12x12 icon-search-12x12 by S.M. Stirling icon-external-link-12x12 icon-search-12x12

S.M. Stirling's "Infiltrator" book cover. [Formatted]

TORONTO FILM FESTIVAL: THE PRESENT

     Ronald Labane lay on the wide hotel bed, fully dressed and so tired he was dizzy. But every bit of him, except for his too-tired face, smiled. He was a success! A raging, by-God success and no denying it. Ziedman and Roth had shown their film and it was the hit of the film festival. He’d been invited to every bash in town, shaken the hands and held the attention of some incredibly monied people, and hopefully gotten his message out to the millions. Time would tell.
     Ziedman said his agent had received nibbles from several distributors and their film had been mentioned on all of the entertainment news shows. They’d even shown him sandwiched between Ziedman and Roth, and he’d looked pretty good.
     Ronald lay still and basked in the glow while the room felt like it was spinning very slooowly.
     These people he’d been meeting were smart, creative, and shallow. At least shallow by his standards. It looked to him like he could become their flavor of the month if he wanted to—a sort of green guru to the stars. He almost smiled, but his face was much too tired. He’d never smiled this much in his life.
     If things go the way I think they might, it’ll be worth the pain, he thought. Tomorrow morning he had an appointment with an agent, someone with pull, who’d expressed an interest in representing his book. He could see it all now, his entire future unscrolling like a movie. Oh, God! I can hardly wait.
     An end to pesticides and herbicides, the outlawing of chicken and pig factories and the indescribable pollution their owners got away with causing. An end to genetic engineering of crops and food animals. The enforced use of alternate energy sources, clean sources. A simpler, healthier life for everyone. More self-reliance, less automation, and a far less consumption-mad society.
     He allowed his mind to wander, imagining every home with its own vegetable garden, people canning their own food, making their own clothes. Everyone busy, involved in their communities, concentrating on the important things in life while their televisions stood idle.
     Except for certain hours on certain days of the week, he thought. We’ll have educational programs on recycling and composting and the problems of the third world.
     Ron shook his head at the wonder of his vision. It would take time, it would take patience, and sadly, it would take blood. There was no way around that. If people didn’t literally fight for a cause they never accomplished anything.
     It will have to be a worldwide phenomenon, he thought. Coordinated to break out on the same day. Perhaps he could start with some sort of computer virus, or several of them, working in waves, breaking down communications. Stop the bureaucrats cold and you’ve made a good start.
     But first, get the message out there, get the ideas into the popular mind, convince them that this was the right, the good, the only alternative to their own personal poverty and death. That was the ticket, make it personal. Then, when things began to get violent, they’d find themselves half agreeing with his guerrillas, even against their will. Because by then he would have made it a part of their belief system.
     A good beginning, Ron thought, closing his eyes and drifting down into sleep. A very good beginning.