The Journal of Gregory Lightyear - 11th October 2003

06:37 pm - Nerve Gas, Duct Tape, and Stupid People.

Okay, I'm lost for words. I followed a link from slashdot to an article discussing the fascinating recent events going on in the Midwest - an invasion of ladybugs, it seems, has overpowered the local populace.
Or, at the very least, outwitted. As for why I'm guessing it's not that difficult:

"I decided to duct tape the cracks around the doors and windows, like George Bush suggested to keep us safe from the terrorist gases," Grgurich said. "But it seems that the ladybugs are more invasive than gas. The duct tape isn't stopping them; it just seems to slow them down."

Okay, so someone tell me this guy doesn't *actually* think that duct tape on door cracks is going to save him from a nerve gas attack. Or any gas, for that matter. Doesn't anybody ever question what they hear on the news anymore? It's like those nuclear fallout shelters they built in the old days, where all of us gradeschoolers would listen for the nuke alarm and hop on down to our 'nuke-proof' cafeteria in the basement to wait out a nuclear winter's worth of radiation and death. In third grade, I can understand why it doesn't cross your mind that your cafeteria isn't going to be much protection from a nuclear bomb going off anywhere in your vicinity.
As an adult, it's unthinkable and unforgivable that someone thinks that duct taping the little slit under your door is going to protect you from a chemical weapon. What, the little biotoxins will get stuck on the sticky duct tape, and say "fuck it man, let's try that house over there; this guy's too clever for us."
Sheeple. Lots and lots of Sheeple, hearing some burning Bush on TV telling them to barricade themselves in their bathrooms, and it's taken them a full year to figure out that hey, this duct tape shit might not do much. That if the bomb went off, the only thing more unlikely than me spending days in my bathroom, with all my worldly possessions surrounding me, eating canned food and drinking bottled water while I wait for news on my little wind-up FM radio is the likelihood I'd actually be alive in that room, instead of dead, surrounded by a bunch of useless shit, with a little perplexed look on my face when I had that last "gee whiz, why didn't that duct tape work" thought pass through my feeble little brain.
In case of actual emergency, this tone would be followed by you being very dead, not by official news and instructions.
This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcast System.