Robotic Groundhog? Just Teach Him To Dance

AP – FILE - In this Feb. 2, 2009 file photo, John Griffiths, a handler of the weather-predicting groundhog …

PETA proposes robotic groundhog for Pa. festival - Yahoo! News

Wed Jan 27, 9:25 am ET

PUNXSUTAWNEY, Pa. – An animal rights group wants organizers of Pennsylvania's Groundhog Day festival to replace Punxsutawney Phil with a robotic stand-in.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals says it's unfair to keep the animal in captivity and subject him to the huge crowds and bright lights that accompany tens of thousands of revelers each Feb. 2 in Punxsutawney, a tiny borough about 65 miles northeast of Pittsburgh. PETA is suggesting the use of an animatronic model.
But William Deeley, president of the Inner Circle of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, says the animal is "being treated better than the average child in Pennsylvania." The groundhog is kept in a climate-controlled environment and is inspected annually by the state Department of Agriculture.
Deeley says PETA isn't interested in Phil from Feb. 2 on, and is looking for publicity

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Hey! I'm not sure what's worse in this story - that people want to replace the groundhog with a robot or that his care is compared to that of children. Oh, pluzzzeee! Get a life people! If you have nothing better to do than worry about Punxsutawney Phil's quality of life, then maybe you need to get a grip and spend time on something worthwhile. Such as aid to Haitian earthquake victims, for instance? Or universal American health care? Or how about the many people who are willing and able to work, but can't find a job? Or can't make a livable wage at the job they can find? Now, what would happen if they fire poor Phil too! I wonder if he could apply for unemployment benefits?

I find the statement that the groundhog is "being treated better than the average child in Pennsylvania" quite disturbing! Not that I have anything against Phil. It's not like I'm advocating feeding him to hungry coyotes or anything. Hey! I think he's doing a fine job. As fine as most weather men that I've ever seen. I'd guess that he's right about 50% of time when it comes to whether or not we'll have those six more weeks of winter each year. Yet, here is an important point I'd like to make. He is not a human being. He is not a child. HE IS A GROUNDHOG! I'm not saying it would be right to, for instance, beat-him-with-a-stick-until-his-little-rodent-self-is-a-pile-of-mush. I just don't think he should be getting better care than any child. Then, again, that's why I'm not a member of PETA.

In the meantime, instead of replacing him with a robot, let's just teach him to do the robot.

Oh, yeah! Spectacularly rad!!!

Until I type again,

Kami

(Link to source: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100127/ap_on_fe_st/us_odd_peta_punxsutawney_phil ) ============================================================ Yahoo! News http://news.yahoo.com/

WIDE AWAKE -- Part Eight: Dead Man Flirting

Photo courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

*** Author's note: "Wide Awake" is an original, previously unpublished, fictional story that I wrote. It will be told in multiple parts. If you've yet to read any of the prior parts, below are the links to do so.

Part One: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-one-crazy-talk.html

Part Two: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html

Part Three: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-three-new-believer.html

Part Four: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-four-education-in.html

Part Five: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-five-thomas-story.html

Part Six: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/11/wide-awake-part-six-curse-of-ring.html

Part Seven: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/12/wide-awake-part-seven-newly-dead.html ***

WIDE AWAKE

Part Eight: Dead Man Flirting

My sister, Stephanie, and I had both been rapt listeners to Thomas' story. The more he had shared with us, about himself and what had happened to him, the more fascinated with him I became. He was, obviously, unlike anyone else I'd ever met before, since he was the first, and only, ghost I'd ever encountered, but he was a special person in many other ways. Thomas was intelligent, kind, honest and more interesting than all the guys I'd ever met rolled into one. Stephanie's encouragement to have a romantic relationship with Thomas was an tempting thought.

Recognizing the direction my mind was going, I had to laugh at myself. When my sister had first started talking about ghosts, I'd worried that she was crazy. Now, who sounded like a crazy person? Was I actually contemplating a romance with a ghost? Not a very practical idea, Lily!

Then again, was the practical path the way I wanted to go here? I'd spent all my life being practical. My choices were made only after weighing all my options. By the time I made my decisions, I was sure that my choices could be considered safe and smart. Yet, hadn't I already decided to break my own rules? Wasn't I going to try to go with the flow? Wasn't I going to allow myself to have some fun this summer?

Thomas was certainly a key part of my plans to have fun. I was surprised at myself for enjoying conversation with him so much. I felt a little ashamed of myself too. His tale of his tragic death surely shouldn't be so entertaining, should it? Was it wrong to enjoy hearing about how he became a ghost? Wrong to want even more details? I don't know. Maybe, it wasn't right, but I couldn't seem to resist questioning him further.

I asked. "So, they never found out who killed you?"

"No, I doubt they'll ever find out who was responsible. After all these years, there hasn't been a single new lead. Thus, it's entirely possible that I will remain a ghost forever." He gave a dry laugh. "That's an unpleasant thought, isn't it? I suppose I should try not to dwell on that idea too much. . . In the end, I could just consider myself another victim of the ring's curse."

The three of us were silent for awhile. Thomas let Stephanie and I absorb the impact of his story. His unhappy, oftentimes lonely, life. The cursed ring. Thomas' unsolved murder which led to him becoming a ghost. The idea that he might forever exist in this state somewhere between life and death, never fully belonging in either. How awful it must be to exist in such a state of perpetual flux! Really! It was a lot of information to take it.

Not surprisingly, it was my sister who broke the silence. "Thomas, you told me before that while you learned to speak with the living, and to sometimes make yourself visible, but that it's not easy. Why did you bother learning how to do it? I mean, you said that there are other ghosts to talk to. Why didn't you stick with only talking to them?"

"Talking with other ghosts is different from contact with the living. You've got to understand that most spirits are, pardon the pun, haunted by their own personal ghosts. By that, I mean that whatever trauma and unfinished business that keeps them from moving on, also makes most of them poor company. I learned what I could from them, in the beginning, but, in the long run, I've had to distance myself from them and their troubles. It helps keep me sane to stay focused on what I can do rather than what is unchangeable."

Twirling my fingers in my hair, I smiled brightly at him. "So, what do you with all your time? Practice using your ghostly super powers?"

Thomas chuckled. "I'm hardly some sort of super hero. My perception of time isn't the same as yours, although I can never forget that I have an abundance of time on my hands. At risk of sounding terribly boring, I spend a lot of time reading. Of course, that's when I'm not occupying myself by flirting with pretty ladies."

I tried not to blush, but I could feel my face heating up anyway. The sight of my shoes suddenly seemed very absorbing, as I stared down at them for awhile. Not surprisingly, Thomas noticed my discomfort and chuckled again. My own mouth couldn't help quirking up in a smile. I really enjoyed the sound of his laugh.

* * * To Be Continued * * *

WIDE AWAKE - - Part Seven: Newly Dead

Photo courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

*** Author's note: "Wide Awake" is an original, previously unpublished, fictional story that I wrote. It will be told in multiple parts. If you've yet to read any of the prior parts, below are the links to do so.

Part One: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-one-crazy-talk.html

Part Two: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html

Part Three: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-three-new-believer.html

Part Four: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-four-education-in.html

Part Five: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/10/wide-awake-part-five-thomas-story.html

Part Six: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/11/wide-awake-part-six-curse-of-ring.html ***

WIDE AWAKE

Part Seven: Newly Dead

"Thomas' Story Concludes (Yet, Just Begins)"

It was as if I were waking from a deep sleep. Gradually, I recalled my shooting. Yet, now I was suddenly free of pain. My vision had become clear. Standing up from my position on the stairs, I felt relief. Maybe, I wasn't hurt as badly as I had initially thought. If the bullets had caused a lot of damage, then surely I'd still be in pain and not able to stand up so easily.

These were the thoughts that flooded me in those first moments, but as I looked around me, fear and horror replaced my relief. I was standing, but somehow I was also lying down. I was conscious, but I was still sprawled out on the stairs, my body filled with bullet wounds. Blood was covering me and had pooled beneath my prone body. I stood above, looking down on myself.

"How is this possible?" I wondered aloud. "How can I see myself down on those steps, as if I were looking at someone else?"

Of course, the answer was right there. It had been since I'd first awoken, pain free, despite my injuries. It was just taking me time of process the idea. Shocking reality and denial were fighting a war within me. Despite a valiant effort, denial was quickly losing.

Lying in front of me, my body was very still. I didn't look good at all. Besides the ugly wounds and all the blood, my face was horribly ashen. I'd never before seen it that particular shade of gray. I looked completely different from any view of myself that I'd ever seen in a mirror.

I spoke aloud again. "I look dead."

Dead. I wondered about this. Was that the explanation for why I could look down and see my body, as if I were completely apart from it? Was it why I could suddenly stand easily, free of pain? Was I dead? Really, and truely, dead?

Yes. Yes, I was. I am dead. That explained everything. Someone had ambushed me and shot me on the third floor stairway of my office building. I'd been murdered.

I was dead. Newly dead, yes, but dead nonetheless. Being newly dead is, in some ways, like being the new kid in school. You don't know your way around. You feel lost and afraid. Everything is at once both familiar and also unfamiliar. You hope that the people you meet will befriend you, take you under their wing, and show you the way. With the help of others, perhaps it will be possible to navigate your way through this strange new reality.

I was fortunate to realize, from the start, that I needed to connect with other spirits. I met several, and it did help. Learning about other ghosts, I discovered that most who die move onto something else, something better. They don't get caught in the limbo of ghost-hood. It is a very difficult existence. You are not alive, but not fully removed from this world of the living either. Most of the dead don't attend their own funerals, as I did, and they don't follow the course of their own murder investigation.

It was beyond frustrating to watch the homicide detectives attempt to solve my murder. It wasn't their fault, really. They did their best with it, given the circumstance. There were no leads and robbery was the only presumed motive. Yet, it was clearly not a random crime. The killer had targeted me.

All in all, I know that it wasn't that long after my shooting, that my body was discovered. It felt like a long time. . . It felt like a very, very long time, but it wasn't. The building had security guards, and, as you might imagine, gunshots in a stairway echo loudly. My body was found just shortly after I stood up and took those first steps away from it.

Both of the building's main elevators were discovered propped open on the third floor. The killer must of stopped them there, below my floor, expecting that I'd give up waiting for them and take the stairs. This, of course, it exactly what happened. Whoever killed me had been watching me. They knew I had purchased the ring. They knew about my dinner reservation, and that I'd have the ring on me that evening. Not that I'd made any secret of it. Many people could have found out these things, and I'm usually at the office working late and alone in the evenings.

All of these things the police figured out, easily enough. Taking my wallet was only an attempt to throw the investigation off track, but it was unnecessary. The police knew that the killer had targeted me because they were after the ring, but they had no idea who might be responsible. While investigating my case, the detectives spoke with everyone who knew me. They even spoke to Martin Dobbs, the estate executor who had arranged my purchase of the ring, by phone from his London office. Nothing came from any of it.

Despite all the efforts of the detectives on my case, there were no suspects in the investigation. The whereabouts of the cursed ring, after it was stolen from me, has also never been determined. Did the killer sell the ring on the black market? Was the killer a hired hitman who obtained the ring for someone else? Or did the killer keep the ring? Considering the ring's famous curse, even if the killer intended to hold onto it, it's entirely possible that it's passed through many hands by now. Perhaps, it has left an even longer string of bodies behind it than anyone knows. Whatever the ring's fate, someone got away with stealing it, and that same person also got away with my murder.

***To Be Continued***

Until I type again,
Kami