Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Tales of Courage, Valor, and Horror

In May, 1968, John McKern was flying a bombing mission in Lower Kagookistan when his airplane came under small arms fire. As he returned fire on what he believed to be a suspicious boat sailing below, the plane was fired upon and disabled. McKern managed to crash land directly onto the swift boat before he was able to determine that it was a friendly craft. All the soldiers aboard were killed, with the sole exception of the boat's captain, John Kermacky. Mobile Army Surgical Hospital medics who rushed to the site described a hellish scene of severed body parts strewn about the banks of a tributary of the Messihippiz river. Forced to improvise under harsh field conditions, surgeons took two intact, living torsos and began sewing other intact body parts onto them. One man had two punctured lungs; thus a lung transplant was performed. The other man had two punctured kidneys, necessitating a kidney transplant. Both men were missing portions of their faces, jaws, assorted limbs, and even brain tissue. Surgeons labored for days in dark surgical tunnels, working to piece the macabre jigsaw together under woefully inadequate lighting conditions. Despite being subsequently captured by Upper Kagookistani irregulars, both men survived. Years later, their friendship survives as well. Stranger still, both men serve their country, the Republic of Armed Desire, in the House of Sedators. McKern is an Esteemed Predator of the Party of Reptilian Empowerment; Kermacky a Senior Elder in the Party of Demogogic Cyborgization. Despite their political differences, the two men reserve time to meet at least twice a year to share a meal of hot dog soup. "But on hot summer days of the Barbecue Festival, we usually have cold dog soup," Kermacky says proudly.

Source: Surrealist Review of the World Nest; Rat XX.


Bridget McKern said...

Must you use McKern and sully the name of the innocent?

(I found your site while doing genealogy related research.)

Blues Tea-Cha said...

Dear Bridge,

Geez. Sorry! It must have been odd to uncover this unauthorized pseudobiography in the course of your geneological research. However, it may serve as media awareness training for some future neophyte geneologist.

I have discussed the matter with my Public Relations Board, a small, flat piece of wood which resides in my desk, and "they" have reviewed the issue thoroughly. The extended Brayne-Phardt writing exercise which is documented above was done without the knowledge of the actual existence of any persons named McKern. (I had no idea. I just combined "Kerry" with "McCain" in a believable compound without researching it.) Hence this disclaimer: Any resemblance to any actual persons, whether fictional or imagined, living or deceased, real or unreal, is purely coincidental. Oh, shit! Any insult to either the Brayne or Phardt families, or both, whether real or perceived, is purely illusory as well.

Note that your own use of the word "sully" in a demeaning fashion could be (mis)construed as an insult to Captain "Sully" Sullenberger, at just the time when he was being lauded for his aero-aquatic accomplishments. Indeed, the use of names --and language in general-- is, like, so, totally, you know…. like, just, … whatever. Like all really complicated and shit. A potential minefield of metaphorical simile and grammatical catastrophe cum apostrophe.

I would be happy to link to any sites detailing the honorable and noble achievements of the McKerns (including any prison records) in historical and modern times, but that might just cause my google to get more entangled, if you know what I mean. Let's just pretend this whole thing never happened, ignore it, and let it slowly fade away as the movement of the North American plate causes the server farms at the Googleplex to be eventually recycled into the earth's crust.

I wish you the best of luck in your continuing quest for the roots of your genetic heritage. I hope I haven't cost you too much time. May the bicentennial of Darwin's birth inspire you to think big! Don't neglect to check out your mitochondrial DNA; I've got a hunch that it will tell you something new. I think I had too much coffee.

Interlockingly entangled,


p.s. Nobody's "innocent"!