On the subject of socially acceptable phobias...

Recently a certain aspect of my personality was brought to my attention. Normally, I’m know to be a generally nice guy, but when this item is mentioned in my presence, a hatred that is almost unreal comes out of nowhere and manifests itself through yours truly.

The item in question? Koala bears.

It have been mentioned to me that I seem to have a morbid outlook on these seemingly cute and cuddly creations of the Almighty. They are docile and adorable that it is almost unimaginable they could cause one seemingly calm human being to turn into a heartless cretin.

This all has a reasonable explanation: they are conspiring against me.

You look at me like I’m crazy, but I’ll have you know it’s true. They want you to think I’m a crazy individuals who has some sort of vendetta against marsupials, but I tell you, my dear friends, it’s a façade; it’s what they do!

I was fifteen when the fateful incident occurred. What the outside world saw was a kind man approaching me, telling me I could make money by helping him promote his book. “10 dollars an hour” sounded so sweet coming from his mouth.

What happened next is what the masses didn’t see. The man’s thugs, a group of koalas, emerged from the ceiling and hauled me off to a location unbeknownst to me, seeing as how I was knocked unconscious. Once at their hideout, they forced me into what I thought was a stuffy box with a rickety fan inside and forced me back out into the public.

As I stepped into the open, the crowd was yelling, “Zoey Bear!”

I was never paid, and since then, the koalas have manifested many times to me, taunting me. I chase after them often, but those spawns of Satan are quick, leaving me to explain to confused bystanders that I was training for a marathon.

Then there was the time they surrounded me, prompting me to summon my knowledge of martial arts to take them down. However, due to their aforementioned thunderous speed, the public saw a crazy man pole vaulting in an alley.

You may think I’m crazy, but I will have you know that these freaks are not cute and cuddly. They are devilish fiends who will bring psychological grief!

Some of you are backing up slowly. It’s understandable. But I will have you know that I am NOT crazy. I am enlightened! And these little monsters will pay for it.

So next you’re at the zoo and you are passing these superficially cuddly marsupials, don’t buy into their lies. And if a man promising a hefty wage to help promote his book were to approach you, my best instruction is to kick him in the garden of good and evil and book it. It will be only a matter of time before his furry minions come after you.

Now if you’ll excuse, I must return to my jujitsu and karate training. My flying crane is going to knock those creatures into next Thursday.

A Letter to Shakespeare

Dear Bill,


Many describe you as a multitude of things: Legendary. Groundbreaking. Innovative. Inspiring.

But as for me, I have THREE words to describe you, supposed legend: Time-Traveling Thief. (Technically that could be considered two words, if you count the hyphen.)

Are you so desperate for a good story that you have to warp the laws of time and gravity just to get one? Do you have to take every thing we knew and loved growing up and twist it for your own profit? So that in some weird retrospect, we think that it was YOU that started it all?

I saw The Lion King. And it was good. It made me laugh, made me cry, and even made me reevaluate my life. Since that time, I have chosen to at all times put myself in the place of that young lion cub who dealt with the betrayal of his own blood. All while befriending a wisecracking meerkat and a loving yet dim warthog, of course.

Then all of the sudden, people are like, "Oh, it's based on Hamlet by Shakespeare, also a story of betrayal! All bow at the feet of Shakespeare!"

I don't know how you did it, but I know you, Bill, you wily son of a gun. I know Hamlet is just a cheap knock-off of Simba. Why didn't you just steal Timon and Pumbaa while you were at it? Or would that just be rude, you hack?

McClintock. One of the great John Wayne westerns. Definitely in my top three of all time. There's comedy, yet enough drama and tension to balance it all out. There's even a great mud fight scene that I continually rewind during each viewing.

And all of the sudden, here come SMART, WITTY BILL with "The Taming of the Shrew."

Are you serious!? How low of you to take a classic (and of all classics, a John Wayne classic!) and turn it into a boring comedy THAT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY! All the pratfalls, misogyny, and drunken fools have some kind of smart joke in jacked-up English that I don't get. The least you could do is make it entertaining, you stuffy, British kook!

I was willing to let you slide. People plagiarize all the time (except for me, though it would seem that way, for my writing sometimes appears to bear resemblance to the format of a college textbook), so I was going to let you go, Bill. Give you a second chance to reevaluate your position, much like yours truly after drying my eyes after watching The Lion King for the first time.

But then you did the unthinkable. You took yet another classic, maybe the greatest movie of all times, and did your worst.


ROMEO AND JULIET!

A heartbreaking drama starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. Untouchable, or so I THOUGHT! YOU COPIED IT WORD FOR WORD AND TWISTED IT, YOU SICK FREAK!

I cried at the end of that movie like a child who's discovered that Santa Claus is just a creepy old man who lives in his mother's basement. But when I read your version, I wanna run to the bathroom and throw up like it's New Year's Day and I've been partying all night long.

Like I said, I would've let you go had you just cheapened it into a different yet similar version, but you had to take this forbidden romance and slap your name on it like it was your own. You make me SICK!


I don't like you, Bill. I don't like you one bit. I love you, in the love of Christ, but in the love of me, there's a list, with the likes of Cher and parachute pants present. AND YOU'RE NOT ON IT. (Actually, you are, but I only put you there so I could cross you out, just to make the effect more long-lasting.)

You can play dead, you coward, but one of these days, I WILL find you. (I probably won't kill you, due to legal implications, but I might pinch your ear, thus causing slight discomfort and temporary irritation, and say something mean about your mother, like, "Hey, my mom makes better meat loaf than your mom. Take that, Mrs. S!")

You've been warned. Plan accordingly, because like a ninja, you won't see me when I'm coming. There is absolutely no retaliation against your sly acts, so I will be the first to find you. Prepare to have your time-warping world BUH-LOWN TO BITS!

Love (but not really),
Nate