What, me Worry? Tales from prison, Facebook and the Globe and Mail

Some people have been asking where I've been all month. Why not a single article? Did I desert you all you asked? I assure you I did not.

The truth of the matter is that I was kidnapped by a group Evangelical Fundamentalists. Apparently my coverage of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (long lasteth his almighty name) for the Christmas issue of Interrobang was the last straw. I was thrown in a small wrought Iron cage and left to die. Amazingly, I became good friends with a small boy who was young and naieve enough to believe that I was no harm. He would fetch me handfuls of small bread wafers and bottles of cheap wine from God only knows where. It was in this drunken and delirious state that I was able to continue pulling breaths for three painful weeks.

I kept busy by tattooing a journal of my thoughts onto my own body with one of my sharpened teeth that had come loose during the struggle, mixed with some saliva and coal dust. It was in this way that I bring you my thoughts today, along with some crude representations of Mark Ryden's paintings on my forearms that I created for pleasure. Naked, I lie on the grass now somewhere in the prairies I think. After escaping from my iron hell last night, with the help of my young friend (May he rest in peace,) I stole a laptop computer from a nearby farm and staying within reach of their wireless Internet connection I have managed to communicate with the outside world.

At this point I will attempt to decipher my own words, as scribbled upon my skin, beginning with day thirteen. It was on the thirteenth day that I created my primitive tattoo machine, and in a feverish state began to scrawl these words that at this point I hardly remember creating…

…At this point I vaguely remember the world outside of my iron stomping ground. The last thing I do remember was being ordained a Minister by one of those crazy bastards. It must have been some sort of cruel joke, to make me a priest in their Church mere minutes before being left to rot. Maybe it was their way of ensuring that I would find my way into heaven, where I could be punished justly for my sins, rather than hell where I would be treated like a prince. Not “the” prince mind you, just a lowly servant prince.

Either way here I am, a Minister for Life in the aptly named Universal Life Church. I might have even brushed it off as a bad dream had it not been for the certificate confirming my ordination that was framed and hung on the wall of my prison box. That, and the handy-dandy wallet size certificate that proves that I am a legally ordained minister with the legal power to perform all ministerial services such as baptism, marriages, funerals, etc. You can find me in the phonebook, or on Facebook.

Speaking of Facebook, during the last two-days since my escape I have been quite busy with the Internet, reading the Globe and Mail and finding out what's been happening in my absence. It wasn't until I opened my e-mail folder that I realized that I had missed out on something apparently vitally important. It seems that I had received no fewer than six million invitations to join something called “Facebook.” Normally I am immune to fads in social networks, but maybe it was due to my weakness of mind and body at this point from my harrowing ordeal. Either way, I found myself making an account, and since then I have created something like ten thousand groups. Please look for me under “Reverend Leigh Cooney” or the group “Reverend Leigh Cooney's Free thinking Church of the Apocalypse.” I have not eaten, drank, or slept a wink. Apparently it is some sort of mind control system, obviously created by the Government to distract us from the real issues, like global warming and the end of life as we know it, for instance.

Speaking of global warming, it seems I wrote something here on my upper thigh. I was given scraps of the Globe and Mail to relieve myself upon. I don't think they intended on my actually reading them, thereby retaining some scrap of sanity. I tricked them though, I relieved myself everywhere but on those precious newspapers, my only link to the outside world.

It was in this way that I found out about the Globe and Mail's attempt to warn the general public about the imminent threat of global warming. It seems as if by some twist of fate, the Globe and Mail suddenly saw a chance to make some profit by addressing Mother Nature's all but idle threats. That's what the news is all about isn't it? Big business? Of course, they are also reacting appropriately to the sudden tidal change in public interest. It's seems as if our friend El Nino (not mentioned), combined with good old-fashioned global warming, gave the people a sudden jolt when they found themselves with no snow to ski on in January. So it was that the G&M reacted appropriately.

The important thing here though people is that we all know the influence the media has on the opinions of the public. The Globe is a highly respected and influential national paper. If the Globe and Mail said that we had to go to war with the people of Greenland, off to war you would go. So if they say that global warming is important enough to receive week long coverage, on the scale of 9/11 and other money makers, then alas, the public might finally decide to take it seriously. Unfortunately they weren't in time to get Elizabeth May of the Green Party elected as the MP for the London North Centre. But start paying attention people because even if we start reacting heavily now, it will take decades for us to see the results.

This is Leigh reporting to you in tattooed pain, from a field somewhere in the Prairies: signing out. See you on Facebook.

Editorial opinions or comments expressed in this online edition of Interrobang newspaper reflect the views of the writer and are not those of the Interrobang or the Fanshawe Student Union. The Interrobang is published weekly by the Fanshawe Student Union at 1001 Fanshawe College Blvd., P.O. Box 7005, London, Ontario, N5Y 5R6 and distributed through the Fanshawe College community. Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters are subject to editing and should be emailed. All letters must be accompanied by contact information. Letters can also be submitted online by clicking here.