do not always believe

	Get Back Read the press coverage: 0 1 2 3   Easy to understand chart: A closer look at said insects. * This very odd photo was found somewhere on the internet. We had nothing to do with it.		Terilyn Joe is the evening news co-anchor for our local television affiliate of that huge, mouse-controlled corporation we all know so well. Ms. Joe cheerfully delivers fresh news every night to hungry Bay Area viewers and does more than her share of community service. She appears to be an honest-to-goodness journalist. Well, not quite... Not long ago I was enjoying a cold beer at a favorite watering hole; the television above the bar happened to have the six o'clock news on and Terilyn was doing her job in an effortless grace. I told the longhaired bartender that there was something I just didn't trust about her; I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but nonetheless I couldn't shake that feeling. He looked at me for an odd amount of time, almost as if unsure it was safe for him to speak or even react to my notions, almost as if someone was watching him. The night went on for a while when at some point he motioned me to the bar's backroom. Once there he shared a frightening story which nearly left me in a state of shock. I immediatly emailed the following account to the local independent newspaper: Deep beneath the streets of our fair city lives a breed of insect on the verge of a complete global takeover. They communicate via low-frequency signals which can only be heard while playing Black Sabbath at amazingly high volumes. Being the skeptic that I am, I immediately asked what this had to do with Ms. Joe. As he poured precious brown liquid into my glass he told me that once, many years ago, while walking on Van Ness at California, he nearly stepped on a cockroach which was literally the size of a small Great Dane. Now, he'd lived in NYC and was used to larger-than-life insects, he explained, but what made this one different was its absolutely perfect hairdo. Of course we all know, as God-fearing citizens, that cockroaches don't have hair, I screamed at him over the blaring Ozzy vocals flooding out of the jukebox. In that instant I heard something odd, a low-pitched sound which at first sounded like nothing more than gibberish, but soon it became clear that gibberish it was not. It was the voice of Terilyn Joe. She wasn't talking about the awful Bay Bridge traffic or the latest Willie Brown fiasco -- she was barking out orders. Orders which I presume were meant for these gigantic cockroaches living just below the soles of our feet. I looked up at the bartender and I knew he had heard it as well. Now I understand, as does my bartender friend, that most of you rational-thinking folks will deem this either crazy, stupid, or as a pathetic cry for attention. That's ok. We are not out to convince you of anything, there are no goals. If anything consider our proposed theories as nothing more than a few fleeting thoughts, something which will be easily forgotten. But when the Day arrives, and you find yourselves enslaved to disgustingly clever cockroaches, controlled by an equally crafty newscaster, we hope you'll remember those forgotten thoughts. We believe you will.   This picture, though not really related to the above in any way whatsoever, is of a Loch Ness Monster sighting earlier this year.