No. 97 - Life's an Itch

Nature has waged a jihad against our skin and sense of harmony with the outdoors. This proverbial flaming bag of poo delivered to your doorstep from Mother Nature herself is an evil that lurks on the fringe, hiding along your fences and property lines. It's called poison ivy, also known as the devil's toilet paper, or poison oak's asshole cousin.

One minute you're playing catch with the kids in the backyard, and the next moment your extremities are burning like a homesick sailor on shore leave with a bad case of chlamydia.

We know there are some mutants out there who boast an immunity from the poison ivy leaf, but this is more than counterbalanced by those poor souls who are afflicted by something as minuscule as poison ivy particles floating in the air.

Poison ivy is characterized by three leaves, with the middle leaf being the longest; fitting, as the dastardly plant appears to be hoisting a big ol' middle finger to the human race.

We're told poison ivy is tolerant to shade, but its intolerance of human skin borders on nothing short of a hate crime. The operative ingredient in this green, leafy dirty bomb is a chemical called urushiol, whose name sounds a little too uncomfortably similar to a Russian Bond villain.

Urushiol adheres to the skin and can lead to blisters and lesions (!). These oozing blisters, though not exactly attractive, are not contagious. Rather, it's the plant's oils that spread across your skin in blistery wildfire-like glory.

And if you think the skin infection is uncomfortable, try burning this stuff. The smoke from smoldering poison ivy can damage the lining of the lungs, leading to respiratory infections, so please keep this out of your bong (unless it's absolutely necessary or you're unable to score elsewhere).

For those planning on ingesting poison ivy to absorb the plant's sinister soul like an ancient South American warrior, please note that this can lead to damaged digestive tracts, airways and kidneys, a veritable cocktail of pain, shaken not stirred.

The pernicious plant also protects butterflies, as many of them can fly onto a poison ivy leaf as a home base, avoiding a fate as a colorful lunch for birds and cats. Why butterflies? When did they strike this special deal with poison ivy, and why wasn't anyone else notified? Butterflies are in on this weedy conspiracy.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of poison ivy illustrates the ultimate finger jab into the seeping wound of humanity: immortality. That's right, even when we pull this wretched being out of the ground, effectively killing the plant, the operative oils can live on for years afterward, even carrying its life out on other materials like tools and clothes.

So, basically, poison ivy is a total dick.

No. 336 - Holy Shit! When Martens Attack!

Weasels have never been lucky enough to earn a favorable reputation with human beings, but the marten has worked its way up to Public Enemy No. 1, passing up John Dillinger and the crazy dancing old guy from the Six Flags commercials.

A relative of the weasel, mink and wolverine, the marten is apparently a lot more ferocious than its cousins, according to those who have declared war on this feral beast, some by manufacturing "marten-repelling" devices for automobiles. They're a solitary animal, which explains their need for rebelliousness and their recent placement on the Terrible List.

Exhibit A is former aspiring "First Dude" Todd Palin, who lines his cozy Alaskan home with marten pelts, partly for the high yield the furs bring about, and partly due to his desire to surround himself with the sweet smell of death. Many a rugged Alaskan has braved subzero temperatures and risked their mortality hunting down this cunning creature.

The marten has been imposing its malevolent will on homes and cars, friends and foes, and people have had enough. Many overseas drivers are installing electronic devices into their vehicles in an attempt to keep martens (and other bothersome pests, like wild boars (!)) away from their finely engineered sports cars.

We have it on good authority that martens, indeed, cause a nuisance, often by way of borrowing the vehicle without permission and leaving the car in neutral without engaging the emergency brake.

They also eat an abundance of crumb-causing snacks, never to even clean up after themselves.

If a marten does visit your car, it is sure to return, states an animal repellent manufacturer. And the vile creature will leave its marks, likely by hanging a pair of personalized dice in the rearview mirror.

The anti-marten repellent emits ultrasonic sounds that frighten the animal by means of "small high-voltage plates charged electrically to approx. 200 to 300 volts." The creatures find these sonic waves "unbearable," in much the same way that a Celine Dion CD makes our ears bleed profusely.

We're pretty sure martens are not fans of those effeminate smart cars, either, so when parking these vehicles, it might be a good idea to just carry them inside with you.

But it's clear that no beast is exempt from our vehicles' protection systems, whether it's boar, marten or leprechaun.

Note to martens: welcome to our present-day taser-style enforcement. Oh, and stay the fuck away from our cars.

No. 15 - Air Apparent

Air is killing us. Not in a toxins-are-eating-your-lungs sort of way, but rather the air itself slowly kills all of us. It steadily wears at our organs, skin and brains like a determined nail file to a stone.

And despite its wickedness, we still associate the air with positive things: the phrase, "a breath of fresh air," Air Supply, the dainty new Macbook Air, the movie "Con Air," featuring Nicolas Cage.

Air is mysterious, and even a bit magical, but this magic can only point to witchcraft, the dark arts, black lights and gloominess. We all know that if you can’t see it, it doesn’t really exist, right?

Air mocks us and takes our money. When we purchase a bag of our favorite chips, the first thing that happens is the air in the bag, which is three-quarters of said bag’s contents, instantly escapes. You’ve essentially paid to set a bunch of air free into the air, the same air that will, in fact, someday kill you. Frito-Lay or suicide machine? You decide.

Some people cut out the middleman and go straight for the air with their wallets firmly in hand. When stepping off an airplane in Las Vegas, one is instantly met with airport oxygen bars, selling the uncut O2 to those addicts fixing to ride the clear dragon.

Air is not a fan of living things. It consumes food, flesh and other organic material with the voracity of a sumo wrestler at a buffet. And then there’s oxygen, air’s hunch-backed accomplice and one of the main components of the air we breathe. And if you think oxygen is your friend, try breathing it in while near an open flame, and at that point, you better say goodbye to your eyebrows and your dignity as well. Oxygen is a destructive element, pulling life from us, and who sustains us with its poisonous feast? Plants, of course, but that's a different listing altogether.

Extending its reach beyond the living, look at what air is capable of doing to metal and other hearty materials in the form of oxidation, rust and general urban decay. Air is a real vindictive bitch, and your number's at the top of her speed dial.

So the next time you get too comfortable and take a deep breath, don't be lulled by the so-called air's ability to keep you alive; there are likely storm clouds waiting in the wings to soak your sorry ass.

No. 120 - Terror From Above

Sure, birds are cute and seemingly harmless, but did you know they're also winged merchants of death?

Don't be fooled by the melodic song of these twitchy little monstrosities. What you're really hearing is a clarion call signaling the end of civilization as we know it.

Is any creature really meant to fly? Probably not. Birds are, at the least, an aberration. How do they stay afloat over the clouds? How can anything poop and fly at the same time?

Can we really trust something that doesn't even have eyelids? We sure wouldn't want to be engaged in a staring contest with them.

We remember our mothers telling us not to touch birds when we were children. "That thing will give you lice," they would tell us. We didn't know whether that was really true, but the lice ended up being transmitted instead in the batting helmets during Little League. Maybe some birds got to those helmets and did God-only-knows what with the bats and balls.

We can handle the lice, or the white droppings on the hoods of our newly waxed IROC-Z Camaros, for that matter. What's truly unforgivable can be summed up in two words: bird flu. Let's set up a bird feeder and invite disease into our homes and our families. Great idea! Why not set up a rat feeder and reintroduce the bubonic plague while we're at it?

Or how about these two words? Airline crashes. That's right, these avaricious aviators have been responsible for many airplane crashes, destroying our plane engines like the little Kamakazi pilots they are, declaring jihad on sensible and efficient travel.

Also, who's looking out for all the helpless worms that get pulled from the comfort of their dirt condos? Where are the animal rights people to avert the senseless slaughter of our slimy, eyeless friends in the ground?

Bottom line: birds are predators. And we must stop them from preying on our fears. There's a reason we compare birds to their dinosaur forebears. Birds are simply circling the sky and waiting for the next earthly disaster. Then they'll laugh at the mayhem from above, cuckling in a pleasantly singsong manner.