Beware the spider vendetta

We all saw its shadow before we saw it.
“It” was a humungous rock spider that was walking out of the campfire. That’s right, I said walking out of the campfire.
It was the colour of granite with a big round body, huge fangs and a bad attitude.
It cast a shadow from the fire and was calmly walking within inches of the hot embers.
A friend took a stick and poked the multi-legged terror and it reached up with one of its front legs grabbed the stick and slammed my friend to the ground.
OK, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but you could see it pushing the stick down a little bit.
My buddy was stunned at the strength of this thing and I felt a shiver go up my spine that lasted for the next 17 minutes.
I had visions of this Godzilla of the spider realm hiding in my sleeping bag or attacking me from below as I used the outdoor loo.
Any such interaction with the arachnid (especially the loo part) would cause me to squeal like a small, frightened school girl moments before I passed out.
Spider, one; big, strong man, zero.
As we examined the spider he, or she, or whatever it was, took up a defensive pose and would push the stick every time it came near him.
I suggested we nuke the spider, so it would never frighten small children or big adults again.
“Hey, why don’t you put on those leather work gloves, pick the spider up and throw it in the fire?” I suggested to my friend with the stick.
“Why don’t you?” was his response.
“Are you out of your mind? Look at that thing. I’m not going anywhere near it. Why do you think I suggested you do it?”
Four fully grown adults stood trembling in fear over a spider that probably weighed less than my fingernails, but no one was going near it — no matter what.
OK, plan A was a bust.
Plan B involved death from above and a bombing run using a five-pound stone was decided upon as the best way to rid the world of the grey terror that was holding us at bay.
I threw the rock and it kind of hit the spider on his side. He then seemed to bounce off the rock and the last we saw, he was shooting across the hot embers to the other side of the fire.
No carcass was found, so we assumed he had survived the assassination attempt, which sent more chills up my spine (kind of like right now actually.)
This freaked all of us out as none of us are overly fond of spiders or any other type of insect, for that matter.
I had more visions. This time it was of a wounded monster spider hiding in the woods, plotting its revenge, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
Perhaps it would limp its way up the tree behind me, climb out on a limb and then drop onto my hair-challenged head.
“Eeeek,” does not even come close to what my reaction would be.
Maybe it would die a slow death, but survive long enough to pass on a message of vengeance to its 20,000 offspring.
That would be just my luck — to have a small army of ticked off arachnids hunting me and my kin down to fulfil some sort of insect vendetta.
There were only so many rocks I could throw.
Fearing retribution, I conducted a more thorough search of the area around the campfire, but no sign of my new nemesis could be found.
Sure, we all hatched the murder scheme, but it would be my scent on the rock. I don’t know if spiders can smell, but I do not want to take the risk.
We tried to relax around the fire and laugh off the incident, but deep down every one of us was keeping a close eye out for any sign of the spider of terror.
We have been back to that spot since that fateful night and have yet to be carried off into the woods by avenging insects, so our fears of a sci-fi like rebellion by an arachnid army are unfounded.

My fear of spiders remains, however, as strong as it ever has — perhaps even more.

Paranoid people are out to get me

Just because you are paranoid does not mean people are not out to get you.

I have heard that saying before and found it kind of amusing.

But there is another version that goes something like this: Just because you are paranoid does not mean people are out to get you.

It just means you are paranoid and perhaps you have an inflated sense of self importance.

My wife and I popped into a little restaurant for lunch a while back when a small group of people came in following a GMO protest.

I am hardly an expert on the whole modified food thing, but I support the anti-GMO movement because man and his scientific brain can not improve on what nature has already perfected.

How can a beaker hugger in a lab make something better than nature perfected millennia ago?

Why do I need a genetically modified tomato when the one God made thousands of years ago works just fine – always has.

I don't need some weenie in a corporate sterile room messing around with my apple so it will not go brown if it sits out too long. That is what apples do, and have done for centuries with no harm to mankind.

I have read the whole thing is driven by massive corporations out to make massive amounts of money. Now that, I believe. And of course the Canadian political machine would never stand up to big business.

Anyway, the Missus and I were having lunch when these people came in and started talking about the protest.

"Ya, I have had an unmarked police car parked in front of my house for almost a month,” said one protester. “I guess someone doesn't like what we are doing.”

Added another, “I know, they have been tapping my phone for weeks now. I guess they wanted to know what our plans were.”

I'm sorry, but I just have a hard time believing the RCMP have nothing better to do with their manpower than to keep personal watch over someone organizing a protest they are legally allowed to hold.

The government, police and secret spy agencies have much bigger fish to fry, but these people were convinced the helicopter flying over the protest – that attracted about 50 people – was taking secret videos of them to add to some massive database.

Really? With terrorists, drug gangs and all sorts of threats to our nation, the government will allocate massive resources to keep watch over a few people peacefully protesting?

Like I said, somehow I doubt it.

I recently dealt with one group that wanted publicity for their cause. They sent the newsroom emails about it, asked we do a story on it, but when I started contacting people on the list, no one wanted to go on the record.

Then why did you contact us in the first place if no one is willing to talk about it?

I spoke with half a dozen people, none of whom would give me any comments and instead passed me along to someone else.

One person said he would not talk to me because he did not know me and sounded very suspicious that I was even a real reporter.

And then these groups wonder why people have a hard time taking them seriously.

But we live in a free country where you can be as paranoid as you want, you can believe government agents are camping out in the hedge in front of your home and that there is a secret conspiracy aimed at your cause.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to put on my tinfoil hat to keep the secret government mind-reading machine from accessing this column before it is published.

Copyright 2014 Darren Handschuh