Headed for Top Ten Best-Seller list: ``The Day Their Brains Stood Still"
Ed Conrad (email@example.com)
8 Dec 1996 12:19:31 GMT
firstname.lastname@example.org (Nat Turner) wrote to sci.bio.paleontology:
>I'm writing a sci-fi story. I need a disease that wipes out every white
>person in North America. Blacks, Hispanics, Asians are left unaffected by
>it. This disease should be quite speedy and possibly heretofore unknown.
>Descriptions of how it selects its victims is key.
My suggestion is petrified brainitis.
Close-minded individuals -- usually scientists -- catch it by filling
their brains to capacity with fantasies and falsehoods, thus
preventing any semblence of truth from marching in.
Eventually, they become braindead, like the zombies we see
in the Boris Karloff-Bela Lugusi reruns. And they, too, enjoy carrying
torches on dark, dark nights.
However, there is only one complication. The disease doesn't work
overnight because it really takes some time.
At the outset, the unknowing don't even realize the left hemisphere
of their brain is slowly turning to stone. But, the more they accept
false doctrine, the worse their condition becomes.
Eventually, some of those pesty miniscule brainitis gnats seek greener
pastures, so they leapfrog across the Longitudinal Fissure and begin
chomping away at the right hemisphere as well.
Mind you, losing a few thousand brain cells won't hurt you, but the
more these little buggers eat, the more they have to go to the
bathroom. And its their droppings that trigger the petrfication
Those afflicted really become a pathetic sight in the final stages.
They turn on those who are trying to help them by calling them loons,
imbeciles and morons. They adamantly defend all fairy tales as being
totally true, especially like the one about Uncle Remus.
Fortunately, when the total process of pettrification approaches,
these poor souls still have a place to go. Thank goodness there's
a home for whacked out scientists and others lacking in good common
It is located in Ellengowan, outside Mahanoy City, Pa. -- only
three-four miles off Interstate 81 -- and is called The Home for
Whacked Out Scientists and Others Lacking in Good Common
But I wouldn't advise a visit.
On Sundays, which is visitor's day, you'll feel awful seeing how few
family members, friends and colleagues show up.
I understand that they stay away because they believe the disease is
contagious -- but they're dead wrong.
Extensive research indicates you can only get it by filling your brain
with what you think are ``facts' but, in reality, are nothing more
than nonsensical, unprovable, irrational and unrealistic fiction.
> Make damn sure you don't forget
> my commission when the book
> is published.