This Post Contains Stuff

This is 57-year-old Charla Nash after being discharged from the hospital. The thing that did this to her was a famous animal actor, a chimpanzee called Travis, familiar from Coke commercials and such. He was owned by Nash's friend, Sandra Herold. On February 6, 2009 Travis, the usually friendly and intelligent, beloved house pet went berserk during Nash's visit, and attacked her. This is the recording of the 911 call Mrs. Herold made while the 14 years old, 91 kg. chimp was tearing his victim apart:

Losing her eyes, ears, nose, lips (Travis literally chewed her face to pieces) and both hands, Charla did survive the attack, and after seven hours of active surgery, the doctors were able to stabilize her condition. A few months later she had an experimental face implant surgery.

Not long after his rampage has begun, Travis was shot down by policemen. After autopsy and testing for rabies, his remains were cremated at All Pets Crematory in Stamford. His owner, Mrs. Herold has died in May 2010.

You know my blog, you know me. Countless times I've found myself sitting in front of a shitty creature feature, eco-horror or monster movie and laughing like an idiot at these kinds of things. But this real-life "incident" I've learned about only a few days ago, it was quite shocking to me. If Good Ol' Life, Fate, God Or Whatever did this to one of my friends, the people I like, that would be... well, let's say that I don't like to think about the possibility. At all. Don't be shy to appreciate your physical health, Dear Readers.

The mind-stinging thing is, regardless of the causes and who was responsible, there was nothing overly unnatural about this freak accident. This is how life and death works. Humans and chimpanzees are over 94% genetically identical. We share a lot of their genes, so I guess it's not too surprising that they are the only creatures with behavior that can match our skilled viciousness and precise, may I say highly sophisticated killing techniques in the whole world.

A fucked up world, that is.

This Isn't a Cry for Help

I'm lying on my room's floor, listening to Colin Newman. There's my laptop in front of me along with a can of beer, leftover from last Friday's movie night - guess what, I've finally get the chance to see Jerry O'Connell's penis being eaten on the big screen, with all the glory of that three D letters. Smiling at the memories I take a sip through the straw. Some would say this shit tastes like pure pain itself.

Pain is nothing to be afraid of. All it takes is some will and strength. You can kill it away.

There's a fact that's comforting and terrifying at the same time: there are things in this world that are very much unlike pain. Take this as you wish, but remember it, just for the joke of it, 'kay?