Rat god

I spend a lot of time alone in a basement, surrounded by rats. Because of my sacharin nature, I have not been able to keep my foolish heart from becoming attached to my furry little experimental subjects. Some experiments that I conduct require me to sit in silence for long periods of time as I watch my rats explore, freeze, groom, poop, or otherwise ruin my experiment. Naturally, my brilliant mind wanders. Often, it wanders straight into crazy town (see below).

I hate how afraid my rats are of me. Every time I open up their cages to deftly pick them up at the base of their tails and gently place them in whatever experimental apparatus I pre-ordained for them that day, they flail their little feet as if I was doing something horribly torturous. Usually the task my rats are being drama queens about is something fairly benign from my point of view, like placing them into a large round container for 5 minutes while absolutely nothing bad happens to them – I’m just there to observe how much time they spend hugging the edges of the circle versus strutting confidently in the middle (this is a measure of anxiety). Then right back they go to the comfort of their own little homes.

I wish I could explain to them that I come in peace, that I mean them no harm. I wish I could explain to them that the bizarre little rituals I’m putting them through are for a reason. A grand reason that no street rat – whose miserable little existence comprises of  slinking around city dumpsters to forage for food before it gets eaten by a hawk or poisoned by pest control – would ever dream of. These lab rats of mine will never have such a gritty existence because these are no ordinary rats. They have special genetic mutations that cause them to over produce the “bad” form of a protein so that they begin to resemble humans with Alzheimer’s disease as they age. Almost everything about them – how anxious they are, how long it takes them to fall asleep, how well they learn a new task, how quickly they will give up in a challenging task, where and how much pathology is in their brains – could be an important key to helping millions of humans with Alzheimer’s disease. Think about how many humans aren’t even blessed with that sort of distinct purpose.

Another scientist in another lab created this rat strain for such a time as this. We didn’t kidnap their ancestors off the streets to fulfill our evil scientific schemes – these rats would not even exist if not for scientists. And then they came to me. I decide what happens in their lives. Some I randomly assign to be breeders. As such they get to have lots of great sex and raise little families. #toblessedtobestressed But most rats I assign for my experiments. They could be designated to a very short experiment, and the last thing they ever experience will be mild confusion in a weird new box before they join the Big Rat in the Sky. Or, they could be involved in a very long, complicated experiment in which they will be subject to all sort of weird environments, some even mildly aversive or painful, and have a lot of interaction with a large scary mammal who smells like coffee and tacos. Sometimes this large scary mammal seems sinister – most of them remember her taking them into a new, stinky room, losing consciousness, and then waking up with their head screaming in pain. But sometimes this large scary mammal seems compassionate – they also remember her visiting them at home when they had headaches, and giving them yummy food that eased the ache in their heads. This large scary mammal also frequently put them in stressful situations, but never seemed to let anything actually bad happen to them. Until, well… They don’t like to think about why all those cousins never came back that one time.

I am, essentially, Rat god.

I’m much more advanced, capable, powerful than these critters -why do I want to explain myself to them? Why do I care what they think about me? Why do I want to make myself known to them?

Because they’re cute.

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And this has led me to have a thought that’s probably wildly irreverent. One part of the Christian story that never made tons of sense to me was why God would ever choose to reveal himself to us. Why not just let us go about our dumb petty lives and then die, never the wiser? But my stint as Rat god has made me wonder.. What if God decided to work humankind into his plan and reveal himself to us because, well… he thinks we’re cute?

ratgod

 

Just think it over before you immediately dismiss it, that’s all I ask!

 

— Editorial Notes —

Obviously the God-as-kind-scientist metaphor can only go so far, but that’s ok. I’m not trying to design a new religion, so everyone spit out that grapefruit-flavored Topo Chico you just drank!

The disturbing truth about Galloblog’s readers

MOST OF THEM ARE MALE CHAUVINIST WEIRDOS!

.. This excludes my fb fam, of course … !

So I wrote this post a while back that was fairly straight-forward – I simply took a classic example of an article written for women that teemed with sickening fawning over the female sex and derision toward the male sex. Then, I changed the pronouns so that my lady readers would “woke” and realize that the way we talk about ourselves – especially in relation to men – is often very offensive.

Anyway – it’s one of my only posts that could be considered an “evergreen.” That is – I actually still consistently get daily hits from rando interwebbers on this blog post, even though it died a quick death in fb world.

Today I was looking over the search terms that people use to find my blog, and the overwhelming majority of them are “unknown search terms.”

 

galloblog_searchterms_pie
I usually make up my own data and facts for this blog, but this is for real. Hot of the press! Pie chart made in excel LIKE A BOSS!

 

But of that small minority of search terms that were actually registered, I was alarmed to find out that almost everyone coming to my page is a creepy male supremacist!

 

galloblog_table3
Also real search terms, I promise. Also note these quantities represent 10,000 😉 Also note I praise-handed the terms that I actually want to lead people to my blog 😀

 

Y’all… I don’t know what to do. My only kinda-long-term-successful post is driving traffic to Galloblog from…. the Milo Yiannapoulos fan club?!?

If you are reading this because you want to woman-hate, move it along. Also, I’m not patheric, YOU ARE! Lolzzzz

 

Alarmedly yours,

Galloswag

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

I’m sorry if you were expecting an actual point or conclusion to this. This was about as “about nothing” as I’ve ever posted. But holy moly! What hath Galloswag wrought?

 

 

Irks and quirks (#5 is probably genius though)

When it all comes down to it, we’re all a bunch of weirdos.

soweird.png

When it all comes down to it, we’re all a bunch of weirdos. But everyone thinks that their oddities are especially odd. As a special and unique treat to all 7 of my regular readers, I’m going to share a few irks and quirks of my own. Oh no, please.. please. Don’t paint me as a brave hero. It’s really a win-win for me. If you don’t identify, I will feel like a rare gem of beautiful eccentricity. If you do identify, we can be besties for life.

  1. Wet Tupperware

When I unload the dishwasher, those stupid Glad dishes or whatever that have these horrible droplets of water on them drives me CRAZY! Handling those dishes – attempting to dry them with a damp towel especially – is psychologically torturous to me. One of my goals in life is to have all glass/ceramic dishes. Cuz Ima fancy gurl.

  1. Numbers that can’t be divided by 3

This may be the nerdiest quirk. A long time ago, I learned that if the sum of the individual numbers of a multi-digit number can be divided by 3, then that number can be divided by 3, too. For example, 8079 can be divided by 3 because (8+0+7+9=24), and 24 can be divided by 3. Thus to me, 8079 is a cool kid. But a number like 4691 is lame. When I’m driving I automatically add up the numbers on license plates and mailbox numbers to see if they’re cool. If they’re not cool, then I think about the smallest alterations needed to make them cool. Like stupid 4691 could be promoted to 4692, and voila! my brain is happy again.

  1. Microwave beeps

This is not just at 3a.m. – I hate the stupid, obnoxiously loud and persistent beeps of a microwave. What is that microwave afraid of happening? My food will get cold again? Okay, fine. That’s my problem and then I’ll just re-heat my re-heated food. Nothing is going to catch on fire so please relax, microwave. I take distinct pleasure in stopping the microwaving at 1 sec to prevent its stupid chirping. Aha! I beat you again, self-important kitchen appliance!

  1. Food containers with less than one serving of food in them

They’re horrible. They’re just sitting in there, begging to be eaten so I can throw away that idiotic, empty container. The quickest way to make me obese would be to fill my fridge with containers that all had 80% of a full serving left in them. I would angrily devour them all, out of principle.

  1. Life (sometimes)

Life doesn’t always go the way I want it to. Or, I really want something that isn’t likely to happen. It can be helpful to sit down and write out what I wished had happen or want to happen, in all of its absurdly-unrealistic glory. For example –

…To Claire’s astonishment, Jo-Jo was standing at the door with flowers in his hands. “Claire, I’ve been thinking… and I agree that I never should have questioned your food choices. You can have as many kale acai smoothies as you want. I just want to be with you and read aloud Tim Keller books as you eat an entire jar of almond butter. Take me back, Claire Bear! ”

Is this stupid and cheesy? Absolutely (and no, I never broke up with someone over smoothies. I don’t even really drink smoothies. #sugarbombs But this is a humorified version of the sort of thing I have written before). But sometimes the stupidity and cheesiness actually helps me move on, because I realize what I want(ed) to happen will never happen. There’s also a part of me that really enjoys creating a sub-reality in which things go down the way I want. There’s probably a bit of egomania in that… but if you tell me so, I’ll just write a story about how I went on Oprah to explain this amazing technique and she gave me a free car. BOOM

These are just a few of my quirks and irks. Now you understand why my blog posts are so weird. There’s some strange stuff going on in the #gallonoggin’. And please.. share your oddities with the world. It will at least make everyone else feel a leetle more sane. 😀