Friday, January 1, 2010

JANUARY 2010 The Insect Issue


Cover illustration by Zed


FEZ Sez
'ONLY BUGGING'
__________________________Bobby Wildside loves Ants
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

'A WORKER'S LIFE'
____________________________A Diary by #852890482
'ITCHIN IN THE KITCHEN'____________Crass'n'Silly has some crazy ideas
'THE BEES THE BEES'__________Life after bees? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
'SUMMER'S HERE'
'THE CHANGING MAN'_______________Munky Harris' moral with a tale
'SNEAKY BUGGERS'__________
Dave Schwan on the military's new toys

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Contributors
Munky Harris, Zed, Circusmouse, Bobby Wildside,
The Fantastic FEZ Line Dancers, Dave Schwan & Crass'n'silly.


Insects, they crawl in your jam sandwiches, jump in the fruity flakes, and bite your ass in the summer, but you just gotta love 'em, don't you? Maybe it's because, as kids, we spent so much time in their company. And FEZ, this month, has, just like a butterfly, morphed insect-style into something more essential that it previous low-maintenance incarnation.
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HUMANS are dumb; they throw litter, eat Maccas till their bellies burst and smoke fags till they die of cancer. And still they ask 'why me, how did this happen?' Compare mankind with the mighty insect which conserves, does the utmost in selfless devotion to its community and lives in harmony with the world.
As the 18th century US puritan statesman Benjamin Franklin said: "None preaches better than the ant, and she says nothing."
But my fascination with insects began as a child. Hot summer days spent playing in the garden revealed vast colonies of sociable ants, all working in unison, transporting food and ill-gotten gains in military style columns snaking across the lawn. Then there were the solitary stag beetles lurking under the rotting logs in the dark an cool underneath the apple tree. If you were lucky, you'd see the male, possessing enormous jaws resembling the antlers on a stag's head which he uses to impress the female and fight off male competitors.
What intrigued me as that fluffy-haired kid, as it does even more so today, was the idea that there was this whole other world operating just below my feet, almost unseen, but as intricate and ordered as the human race. I mean, how could anything with such a small brain live such a perfectly ordered life?
Indeed, insects have inspired humanity since the dawning of civilisation, with Roman poets and philosophers Virgil, Pliny and Horace noting how ant nests and beehives were model societies from which humankind could learn much. And in the Victorian era, insects became the centre of much attention from entomologists who sought to challenge Christianity's anthropocentric view of the world.
Today, it seems, bugs and insects are encountering somewhat of a renaissance, as humanity becomes to realise the damage it has wrought upon the Earth. This year in London, the Pestival (http://pestival.org) ran for its third year, a festival celebrating insects in art, and the art of being an insect, featuring architecture, art, comedy, film, music, sound, technology and life, investigating how insects shape our world and how humans shape the world of insects.
Insects have inspired writers such as Ridley Scott, with the life cycle of his alien, to the Vespiforms in Doctor Who and even band names, from the best pun and biggest band of all, The Beatles, to the Isle of Wight's Bees, and 80's new wave stars Adam and the Ants.
Perhaps the move to Far North Queensland has reignited my interest in the little critters who punch far above their weight, from fleas in the bubonic plague to honey bees providing delicious honey.
Take this morning for example, I marvelled as a flake of toast I dropped upon my kitchen table was hauled over the newspapers and vertically up the wall by a column of ants. I've put away the sprays and the early morning flush of tap water down the sink has been dispensed with. From now on, I will share my pad with the bugs.
But surely, the last word belongs to American physician and writer Lewis Thomas (1913-93), who said
"Ants are so much like human beings as to be an embarrassment.
"They farm fungi, raise aphids as livestock, launch armies into war, use chemical sprays to alarm and confuse enemies, capture slaves, engage in child labour, exchange information ceaselessly. They do everything, but watch television."
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Born yesterday to some-one screaming at me..."Your Time Starts Now!" Nice welcome to the colony.


Start on egg detail. Found out I'm sterile. It just gets better.


Yippee! Promoted at last!


Isn't this place big enough already?! Apparently not. Our squad spent the day digging a huge new chamber. Hope it's a drive-in.


Half way through my life already + still so much to do.


First time outside the colony. Nervous @ first, then saw things I could never have imagined when was inside.


Love it outside! Such a wonderful change of pace, as everything moves so slowly, compared to the madness inside. Fed up with all the touchy-feely bullshit and morning pep talks. I KNOW my job.


Total carnage! We lost so many, lots of veterans, too. Saw whole platoons just wiped away - gone, with-out trace. On return, was promoted. Will lead out tomorrow. Feel so very tired. No-one seems to care.


My last week. Will take it easy, but not too much.


Made lone scout today. They don't expect me to come back. Hope my memories go with me.
*



MANY people (I’m not sure how many, because some people are born every day and others die every day. Sadly, it’s often the same person who does both things on the same day, or has both things happen to them, but you have survived this tragedy, if you are reading this, so think yourself lucky. You have internet access and a place to use it. You probably have access to a cup of tea. Perhaps you have some friends as well, but, if you have nothing better to do than read this, perhaps not. If you’ve nothing better to do, and help me out of these parentheses?) [Thank you. Oh. Now where am I? This is even weirder] would like some patronising information on how to repel insects. To save readers’ time I have included this link:Google
Which glides us slickly, or slickly glides us, depending on which football team you support, to repellence.
1 • Hygiene. Forget to wash. Waste an evening drinking cheap wine (posh wine just confuses them) [Hello? I’m still in here], looking at rubbish like this. Insects love shit, you can easily repel them by smelling more like shit than shit does.
2 • Drive a cheap car. Even if your car wasn’t all that cheap, it is easy to make it appear so. Aim at muddy puddles, brush against trees, or research into how to loosen the fan belt so that it makes that horrible squealing sound every time you pull away.
3 • Live in a five star hotel. They are so paranoid about insects in these places, the staff have a smooth-moving cart with enough hi-tech anti-insect equipment on board to force the cockroaches into a crisis meeting. “Look,” says the head cockroach. “These ugly humans keep saying that we are the only insects or anything that will be left after a nuclear wosname, but have you seen what they’ve got now? Ladies and gentlemen, we’re fucked. I suggest we just leave this meeting and go out and eat as much shit as possible before … Shlooooop, he went up the nozzle.
4 • LSD. “Hey, there’s like a really cute insect there on the carpet. How could anyone want to hurt a really small thing like that? That little guy’s got a right to live on our planet, just like us and the squirrels and, you know?” In this case, insects don’t need to be repelled, because they are a necessary part of our planet’s necessary symbiotic existence.
5 • Become an insectivore. This turns the whole thing on its head. Which is a great technique when dispatching larger insects for your pot.
6 • Swearing. Simply imagine, after a few deep breaths, that your insect is someone or thing that you hate. Write down all the swear words or insults that you know, then shout the list at the insect. More often that not, your insect will scarper, not wanting to spend any time with a fucked-up air-waster like you.
7 • Build a massive laser contraption thing, aimed at a small cross on your kitchen floor (insects love the kitchen: examined under a microscope, tobacco loopers, especially, have been seen wearing novelty aprons and pink Marigolds) [please let me out, I’m suffocating and there could be insects in here]. Then put a little sign saying something along the lines of: INSECTS: BITS OF DISCARDED SHITTY FOOD HERE, pointing to the spot where the motion-activated beam will fry them.
8 • The Square bracket insect trap. Simply press the left square bracket thing and the self-interested insect will jump in to tell you all about itself. Then press the right square bracket thing. Press delete. Job done. [Oh, at last, I can see the light at the end of the bracket … you bastards]
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REGULAR readers of FEZ will remember last June's 2012 issue and if you haven't been stuck under a rock somewhere, you will also have noticed Hollywood's attempt to catch up with Roland Emmerich's blockbuster of the same name. Now something neither the movie nor FEZ covered was the potential for disaster to befall us if certain insects disappear, namely, bees.
"What? There's more?!" I hear you cry. Well, yes, er.. and...er no.
As in the climate change debate, there are two sides to this one, too. Countless articles and studies have been devoted to informing Joe Public that bees all over the world are dying ('global pollution' being the main reason, amongst others), and this will result in the world's food production falling dramatically and ultimately leading to the end of the human race.
Sound familiar?
However, staple foods such as rice, wheat and corn are not dependent on animal-pollination, but are wind- or self-pollinated.
"Yippee!" you all shout. Well, don't get too excited just yet, because, just as world leaders are getting all hot about global warming, they've been stung into action to save the bees, too, with the European Union leading the way, shrilly demanding (as only they know how) urgent action.
So, if it's true that the world will end with the bees, just how long have we got? According to some dubious sources (a politician), once the bees start disappearing, mankind would survive for only four years. This phenomenon started a year ago which means... we have until... 2012! Again! Indeed.
Until now, I haven't mentioned anything about honey, and I'm pretty sure you've all been contemplating the thought of life without breakfast. Don't worry. Your toast is safe, as although in some areas of the world honey bee populations have fallen, this is due to good old fashioned economics as production has been moved to cheaper Third World countries, much like everything else. This information comes from the honey producers, for who the last thing they would want to believe in would be the disappearance of their business through some calamitous freak of nature. In the meantime, I suggest you get used to putting something else on your bread in the morning.
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Shani was in a rut. During the past few months he had descended into an unshakable ennui of binge eating and destructive behaviour, while his mood grew more tortured and dark by the day. He had to change his ways, but how he would achieve it he did not know.
Awaking one spring morning, he cast a look at his reflection. Swollen and bloated, his body bore the physical scars of neglect.
He slammed the door behind him, and made his way into the haze of another miserable dawn.
"Mate, what have you been up to?" shouted an old pal from across the road. "Haven't seen you around for ages. You don't look well, sure you're okay?" he said.
"Ah you know, had things on my mind. Been a bit lost," replied Shani curtly, trying to avoid further questioning.
"Well, hope you get it sorted out. Take care, fella," blurted out the voice.
Shani sighed. How would things change? Was this it? How life would remain, forever?
Slurping at his breakfast, he peered out into the rain through the window and pitied his useless life.
Returning home, he spotted a cripple, laughing and joking with his friends.
"How could he be so happy?" questioned Shani to himself.
But it sparked a thought: the only soul that could save him from decline was himself.
And as the evening mists drew in and the birds returned singing and chattering to their nests overhead, Shani took one final look in the mirror. "Change your ways before it's too late," he said to his reflection.
Nighttime approached and Shani relaxed into a deep, impenetrable slumber that seeped into every part of his aching swollen body.
Time lost all meaning, thoughts and dreams and lights flashed through Shani's mind, his destructive ego and illusions dissapating into the timelessness of the Universe. A burst of white light awoke him, brilliant and life-affirming. It was dawn and the scent of the many perfumes from the flowers made him feel blessed to be alive. Something was different, but he didn't know what. But what was this? His body was sleek and handsome and where once his flesh was pudgy and sallow, were wings, vibrant multi-coloured wings. Reds, and violets and oranges. Flexing his muscles and feeling the power soar within his soul, he rose high into the vast blue of this most glorious of days, higher and higher he propelled himself lost in feelings of love and happiness.

"How does one become a butterfly?" he asked. "You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar," said the wise man.
*




High above the Afghan plain lurks the latest in American Unmanned Aerial Vehicle technology, the Avenger drone. Peering down through the gloom from high above the clouds, its night vision sensors lock onto its target, an Al Qaeda financed training compound for suicide bombers. Tonight the mission is not to destroy the place with missiles, tonight a different weapons system is being tested. A hatch opens on the underbelly of the Avenger and a sleek pod drops away towards the ground. Just before it hits the earth it stops and hovering, releases its own cargo-- a group of modified cockroaches, each, in turn, carrying a black mini-pod with its rear legs. The roaches, six in all, glide towards predetermined targets, controlled, like the UAV above, by pilots who sit at control decks sixty miles distant. Four of the Roaches head for an old chimney and after ensuring that no fire burns below, drop into the blackness. The remaining pair of roaches take up position above the guards who patrol the perimeter of the camp. The six men walking the grounds are supported by other men who man a trio of machine gun- equipped towers. Having chosen targets carefully, each Roach begins to operate the weapons pod grasped below. Like silent, mini-gunships the pods spit gel-coated projectiles at the enemy. As the gel-rounds impact their human targets they burst, releasing yet another insect,a nano-enhanced flea. Bred by the military, each flea is a mutant killing machine. They have been starved for a time leading up to this mission and once released from the flight-gel they instantly begin to bite and feed upon their target before leaping to another. Capable of jumping incredible heights and distances they soon infest all of the guardsmen. Initially the victim feels the needle prick of the bite and may slap or scratch the site. This merely helps the toxins to spread and take effect. Breathing becomes difficult and blindness quickly occurs. Within 45 seconds both victim and fleas are dead. Two guard dogs are also amongst the victims.
At the bottom of the chimney the remaining roaches split up, two heading for the communications room and and two towards the dormitory that sleeps around 80 trainee suicide bombers. Outside the communications room stand two armed guards, both smoking cigarettes and gossiping. These two roaches release dark tinted wasps from their cargo pods. Having located their targets the wasps shoot forwards like missiles. Once stung the results are much the same as the outer guards experienced, but having dispatched two targets, the Wasps land on the floor and slip under the door into the radio room. Once inside they attack the pair of radio operators and then return to their pods to be transported elsewhere.
Upon arriving outside the dorm's, roaches 3 & 4 release a swarm of blood-thirsty fleas onto the sleeping enemy. Few get the chance to wake or scream. Vocal chords paralysed, blind and gasping for air, they mostly die in their sleep. The fleas quickly die and the roaches return to the Avenger. As the drone surveys the quiet compound below not one living creature stirs. Silently the craft moves on.
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FEZ next month:
"SEX"
Oh yes people, it's the BIG one, the theme you've all been waiting for. Got anything dirty/kinky/perverted you wanna share with everyone. Tell us all about it for your chance to win a prize.

Congrats to The Fantastic FEZ Line Dancers for winning last month's prize.

Contributions to:-
fez@randompress.com.au