Somebody puked on the lower right-hand corner of the page on Chico in the “Unexplained Phenomenon” section of Weird California. I lost the History Channel so I have to read occult books. The print makes it easier to comprehend the melange of testimonies, headlines, theories, and assesments, with better illustrations.
“Something up there doesn’t like this Sacramento Valley town,” it begins. It seems Chico was once pelted with rocks, fish, and meteorites from on high, in 1921. They rained on the very warehouses that still occupy 6th and Orange. The authorities blamed the 20’s equivalant of a “Frat Fuck” using a machine, but numerous bystanders saw the objects “suddenly appear” in midair. The meteorites weighed several tons, belieing catapultion (the deluge peaked on St. Patrick’s Day, maybe it was a “Fuck”). In 1878, smaller fish fell on downtown.
I also lost H2 (home of Ancient Aliens marathons), and every channel above 20. They left 190-200, alternate PBS and Latino channels (two are Latino PBS), and three locally franchised oldies TV and B-movie affiliates (all I need). Call it a conspiracy theory, but I was convinced that the market I poo-poo’ed two columns back had alerted Comcast after I alluded to premium channels on Facebook posts and revealed I was only paying for basic cable. The logical explanation was just as absurd. Six months ago, Comcast had required universal direct boxes instead of little adapters after the digital conversion, and were only now shutting off the additional channels these devices tapped into. I’d been pirating them for an additional year by installing my Mom’s unit after I refused to pay 65% more for them.
I still had On Demand (via my Mom’s custom remote), which enabled me to watch select programs, Star One, and redundant classic films. I’d been squandering time watching Turtle Man and infestations on Animal Planet; Pawn Stars and American Pickers on The History Channel; Man Vs. Food and Food Wars on The Travel Channel; Piers Morgan and Wolf Blitzer on CNN; everything on E; Seth Rogan and Tara Reid on Comedy Central (I’d tired of Colbert and Stewart); and oversaturated multiplex crap on AMC (I hate their overhyped “original programming”).
Now I can take the lowlife-infested hour-long bus to Chico and hang with the homeless in the Park Plaza waiting for hot fish to fall (you know what I think of the fish from that store). Maybe “cementized” rocks will pelt some pitbulls and they’ll go insane like when it thunders.
Better yet, a massive carbonaceous chonderite could level downtown (hopefully while I’m at Five Mile, though I’d be vaporized if it was the size of Tunguska). They could rebuild that civic eyesore (the plaza), plant some trees, and get rid of the storefront canopies and the roundabout they just built in front of CSU (and that cancerous building). Maybe there’ll be less stabbings, cell phone thefts, threats for making eye contact, or perceived false telepathic snobbery. We’re exactly 49 years overdue, as only now are we deserving of such a cataclysm.
Author’s Note: The other postive outcome of the TV catastrophe was that I discovered you could change the color of the channel listings screen.