Dissertation Completion

One thing to understand about prison, in case you have not been incarcerated, is that you basically have a lot of time on your hands.  Depending on your cellmate, perhaps you’ll spend considerable time on both hands and knees, but that’s another story.  When I was on the outside, much of my exceptional effort was placed on saving the Earth and its beautiful creatures including but not limited to, but mostly, the Helmeted Woodpecker.  Captive confinement curtailed my direct involvement in Earth-saving activities, so I basically had to direct my efforts toward other undertakings including but not limited to instituting a shiv recycling program, creating a prison-constrained protocol laminating system, not dropping the soap, and of course, Ultimate Frisbee.

Outside of these pursuits, I basically found time to finish my dissertation.  I completed the defence for the aforementioned dissertation as a series of 30-minute non-conjugal visits with my “advisor” and other committee members including, and limited to, Tzar Pickfit, Gip Chirpor, and a “neighbor” from my cellblock that everyone called Esteban Estupendo… or was it Esteban Estupido?…  basically, whatever, but he basically had a Ph.D. and was basically eligible for adjunct faculty status in my graduate programme. 

 If you’re lucky, I’ll undoubtedly give you more details about the aforementioned dissertation in a future post.

Apprehendification

There basically appears to be some questions related to the circumstances under which I reenrolled in a Paraguayan prison after the period of time that I had decided to take a break from the aforementioned prison. As you may or may not recall, but likely do recall, the reason that I decided to go to prison in the first place was related to my former technician, Carl, and his twisting of “facts” related to “trafficking” monkey parts.  If you’re looking for a good volunteer, even one that is basically willing to pay to volunteer as part of your Earth saving operation, do not hire Carl.  He may or may not get you arrested if you happen to be a fugitive from “justice.”

You undoubtedly may or may not also recall that during my brief incarcerational recess, I enlisted the support of my therapist Dwight, who basically also happened to be my brother.  Dwight was basically exhibiting erratic behavior at a time when there was a serial rapist on the loose.  Some had basically suggested that rather than a therapist, perhaps Dwight was the rapist. 

Well, I basically mentioned that Dwight had been giving therapy to law enforcement officials.  Basically, Dwight lied to me. The aforementioned law enforcement personnel suspected Dwight of being the serial rapist!! Are you freaking kidding me?!?!  They seemed to think that his hiatuses basically coincided with sexual assaults, and that his glass inhaler wasn’t for medicine, and the scratches covering his entire body were suspicious, and the DNA evidence left at several “crime scenes” somehow “implicated” Dwight…  Long story less long than it could be told if fully explained, there was basically a big raid whereupon the Paraguayan government unleashed a task force such that they could apprehend us and that resulted in the arrest of both the aforementioned Dwight and, given that I had some type of “warrant” for unauthorized leaving of prison, myself as well. 

I basically tried to explain my important work saving the Helmeted Woodpecker from Man’s evil deathgrip of destructive mayhem.  They didn’t care!! Are you freaking kidding me?!?!  They didn’t even care that they were basically jeopardizing the potential existence of the Helmeted Woodpecker, possibly even threatening it with extinction.  I know you were responsible Carl, and although I will answer factual questions related to your past employment if asked, as I may or may not be bound by law, I will NEVER give you a glowing recommendation.  

Lobstahtastrophe

Today basically represents the fourth straight day that I’ve sat here at this internet café in Asunción attempting to learn what I missed during my incarceration such that I may know what I missed during my incarceration.  As you may or may not know, Paraguayan prisons are not known for their internet access, and I basically refuse to read print media because the senseless slaughter of trees for creation of the aforementioned print media is an inexcusable assault on our Earth’s precious life.  Many inexcusably inhumane instances ensued in the preceding approximately more or less 3 years, 5 months, 25 days, 14 hours, 17 minutes, and 13 seconds, plus or minus exactly a few minutes or so.  There have been many tragic losses of life over the aforementioned period, many of which have been tragic.  Basically, there’s one case that stands out to me more than others, perhaps more so.  The sadness initiated from the aforementioned situation undoubtedly increased the mass of my heart from the average of approximately more or less 300 grams to perhaps greater than 500 grams or more.  Obviously, excessive exercise or various diseases can also cause the aforementioned mass increase, but I’m basically sure this case was precipitated by sadness and/or despair.  Larry was a teenager, about 15 years old, when he was held captive by heartless savages.  The intentions of the aforementioned savages included consuming Larry.  These consumational aspirations were thwarted by a courageous group of heroes that more or less liberated Larry with the intention of giving him a better life.  They packed Larry in a Styrofoam cooler and shipped him more or less more than 1,000 kilometers such that he could lead a better life in freedom from savage consumption.  Alas when he arrived after the aforementioned Styrofoam-enclosed journey, he was deceased.  Many people are willing to trivialize the aforementioned story based on the technicality that Larry was a Crustacean Citizen. Shame on you, many people.  And rest in peace Larry.  I am more or less committed to preventing future such tragedies from occurring.  If you want to learn more about this unspeakable disaster, please go to www.blackle.com and search for Larry’s story.

Clarifyation

Undoubtedly, you, my loyal followers, may have many questions about my absence and triumphant return.  This aforementioned statement may be proved by the recent comment elicited by my previous post.  Did I escape from prison?  This time, they let me out.  In fact, they basically begged me to leave for some reason.  Last time, as you may or may not recall, I declared that I left when I felt like I had more important things to do.  Some people may or may not refer to that as “escaping.”  Potato, tomato.  Did I mention that my prior incarceration was unjust?  That it was driven primarily by the misinformation of my former technician Carl, who will basically never receive a favourable recommendation from me for future employment thus destroying his intentions of future biological occupations?  That I really did have more important things to do??  Did I mention that my supposed “lawyer”, Martin Almada, basically refused to properly represent my innocence on the technicality that I “partes de mono vendidos”???  ¿Me estás tomando el pelo?!!!

I basically intend to clear my name and resume my important Earth-saving activities.  It’s basically unfortunate that, as I sit here in this internet café catching up on what it is that I may or may not have missed during my aforementioned hiatus based on a disastrous misunderstanding of my conservation-oriented activities despite continued insistence among staff of the aforementioned internet café that I leave because I am not a paying customer, almost all of my supposedly loyal, but apparently worthless, technicians have abandoned me.  I know that you, my loyal followers, would never do that.  Right now, I’m currently working out a protocol for returning to my field site. I know you’ll be anxiously awaiting the aforementioned return.

Freedom

Basically, it’s been approximately more or less 3 years, 5 months, 25 days, 14 hours, 17 minutes, and 13 seconds, plus or minus exactly a few minutes or so.  Leaving you helplessly stranded and lacking direction in my unexplained absence was not my choice.  I sit here in an internet café in Asunción such that I can inform you of my return to the imperative activities of saving our Earth from careless human carelessness.



My aforementioned return has been precipitated by the completing of my “term” in prison, whatever that means.  As you may or may not recall, but undoubtedly remember, I told you, my loyal followers, about my year in a Paraguayan prison.  I basically spared you some of the details about the aforementioned incarceratory time, but, long story less long, it turns out you can’t just leave prison when you feel like you have more important things to do, even if you do have more important things to do, and can prove it.  Having completed all of the instructions listed on the long-laminated Prison Release Information Dissemination protocol, I must return to my important work of singlehandedly prying Earth’s biodiversity from Man’s evil greed. You’re welcome. 

Becoming Monetarily Autonomous - A Great Idea

Basically, let me start by apologizing for not updating my blog sooner.  I had to put my HEWO research and obviously the aforementioned blog on hold for a little while as I searched for a solution to a small dilemma I’ve been having.  Basically, yours truly has been finding it difficult to obtain funding for my ongoing HEWO research.  It seems other researchers have started “dipping their hands into the mayonnaise jar” as they say and, as a result, my grant was reduced to a mere 3,000,000 tolongs ($150 U.S.)/year.   This reduction in my budget is, according to my funding agency, the result of my not making “significant” progress toward identifying critical habitat for the HEWO.  Are you freakin’ kidding me?!  “Significant”?  My HEWO research is world renowned and the novel methods I use to study them are second to none!   I’m not bragging or anything, but I guarantee I have significantly more (P < 0.05) protocols than any other “researcher” that has ever written and laminated protocols and if that doesn’t signify progress then nothing does!  How can someone personally develop and laminate over 237 protocols and not get anything done?!  If I wasn’t actually doing anything why would I need the freakin’ protocols?!   So what if my research has hit some bumps recently?  So what if some of my protocols are actually just protocols describing how to write protocols to interpret other protocols?  That doesn’t take away from the fact that they’re (1) laminated and (2) proof that I am making “significant” progress!  My protocols are the foundation of my scientific method.  Architects draw up blueprints don’t they?  They don’t just go out there and start nailing freakin’ crap together.  They have a freakin’ plan.   They ffffffffffffffffff  fffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff  AHHH!   Phreaking rabbit bit oph my phreaking ‘eph’ key!   Are you phreakin’ kiddin’ me?!  I can’t aphord a new phreakin’ keyboard!   Well, I can’t aphord one at the moment, but iph my new plan phor acquiring research money pans out, I’ll be able to buy a crap ton oph new keyboards to replace the ones Magnum has eaten or dephecated on.

Basically I want you all to be the phirst to hear about my idea.  While on my blogging hiatus I phormed a company specializing in hair care products phor male phield technicians.  It’s called A Touch of Stud® (note registered trademark symbol and my use oph the letter ‘eph’ – thank goddess phor copy and paste).  I know what some oph you are thinking, “Hair care products phor male phield technicians?  Why would the World’s Greatest Biologist want to sell hair care products phor male phield technicians?”.  I don’t necessarily want to, but “desperate times call phor awesome ideas” as they say and iph I know anything as well as I know HEWOs, its hair care.  As you may or may not know, one oph the reasons I’m so easily recognized around the world is my signature hair style.  Popular magazines have devoted lengthy articles to it, describing it as “. . . like a muskox’s coat covered in wood glue” and “. . .a cross between a spider plant and the taint oph a mastodon.”  My phavorite is the article written in Paraguayan People which described my hair as looking like “. . .  the ophspring oph a sea anemone gang-raped by Donald Trump and Coolio.”   

Obviously, these magazines wouldn’t waste valuable space writing about my hair iph they weren’t secretly obsessed with it.  So, I phigured I’d take advantage oph the aphorementioned popularity oph my hair to generate the revenue needed to continue my signiphicant (P < 0.05) work.  

Phor those interested in trying A Touch of Stud®, I leave you with my personal guarantee.  Iph, aphter using A Touch of Stud® every morning phor a year, you are not phully satisphied, I will give you a phull rephund upon receiving all materials originally sent to you.  Iph you place an order in the next 10 days, you will receive these bonus items:

• A Touch of Stud® How To Be a Stud Pocket Guide Volume 1
• A Touch of Stud® How To Be a Stud Pocket Guide Volume 2 
•  A laminated copy oph one oph my protocols signed by me 
•  A Touch of Stud® Biodegradable applicator/toothbrush 
•  A pack oph A Touch of Stud® Organic Zima-phlavored Chewing Gum
• A Touch of Stud® Popular Hair Styles Guide (see below phor a preview)  

Carl's Re-Re-Discovery

It has basically been a rough couple of weeks. As you may or may not be able to tell based on my increased focus on Carl, Dwight has basically more or less undoubtedly disappeared again.  However, this may basically be a fortunate, if not fateful, coincidence, perhaps even destiny, and lucky destiny at that.  Were it not for the aforementioned disappearance I basically wouldn’t have fortuitously rediscovered Carl.  I basically singlehandedly made this important discovery earlier this week when Mateo informed me that I should watch the U.S. Presidential Debate as there was someone in the audience that basically “looked like” Carl. 

I basically singlehandedly confirmed that the squirrel-suited Asian man in the audience at the aforementioned debate was in fact Carl.  While it’s basically common knowledge that many Asians look the same, and that many of them wear squirrel costumes, I have no doubt that this was Carl.  Obviously, my refusal to provide him with a positive recommendation has led to his continued employment as an audience member at various U.S. political events.  Rather than immediately reinvoking the AIDS protocol, I decided to wait.  We will basically spring our trap at the third, and final, 2012 U.S. Presidential Debate.  It’s time to pay for your crimes against Earth, Carl.

Seriously Carl? Seriously?

As you may or may not recall, Carl, my former technician that was basically singlehandedly responsible for my unfair and heretofore unprecedented incarceration, has basically been on the run for a few months, if not weeks.  We recently discovered Carl hiding in the U.S. where he was hired as a token Asian at the Republican National Convention, but he escaped before our apprehension team could properly implement our newly laminated AIDS protocol.  Well now, Carl is basically trying to kill me.

A monkey assassin?!?  Are you freaking kidding me?!?!  That’s great Carl, you know damned well that I’ve involuntarily emptied my bladder at the sight of firearms ever since “the incident” and that your gun-toting gibbon would never get past my security detail and intricate system of metal detectors that were put in place specifically to prevent the aforementioned involuntary urination.  We’re done playing games Carl, we will track you down and I will never give you a good recommendation.  

El Diablo

As you may or may not know, I’ve literally been basically bombarded with a question about what happened after my unfortunate incident of accidentally shanking my cellmate with the wrong end of my custom-made toothbrush shiv.  Obviously, this was the result of one of my worthless technicians basically failing to show me how to properly use the aforementioned shiv prior to my unwarranted incarceration.  After recovering from what was basically the most merciless beating I have ever experienced at the hands, feet, and metal lunch tray of another of Earth’s citizens, I was assigned a new cellmate.  He basically would not say anything, but he was referred to by others as “El Diablo” and he basically had a strange habit of staring at me while I slept. 

I still basically felt that I needed to follow through on the aforementioned prison dominance protocol, but I basically needed time to heal and to basically select the next person upon which I would assert aforementioned dominance.  I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was starting to feel like I would turn the aforementioned “El Diablo” into an example, but because both myself and “El Diablo” were prohibited from having anything that could basically be turned into a shiv, I would have to transition to Plan B.  

Erraticism

As you may or may not recall, after I was released from prison I basically hired a licensed therapist to help me readjust to life on the outside and heal my deep psychological wounds such that I can continue on my destiny to save the Earth and inspire the many scientists of this world with my world-class scientific greatness.  The aforementioned therapist, my brother Dwight, has basically helped me out a lot, but this help has not come without its share of difficultation.  Dwight’s recent behaviour has been erratic and has begun to worry me.  His week-long unscheduled absence occurred during a time when there was a serial rapist on the loose.  Luckily, the aforementioned rapist has basically not struck since Dwight has returned.  After returning from the aforementioned absence with various scratches and abrasions about his body, Dwight refused to explain where these came from and proceeded to basically sleep for a week.  Now, he’s apparently taken to giving therapy to law enforcement officials, as they’ve basically come to visit multiple times, and he spends all of our precious dial-up internet minutes on something called “chat roulette.”  I’m worried about Dwight, but I’m mostly worried about me as this is basically drastically affecting the quantity and quality of my therapy.