Tuesday, May 21, 2024

What the Media Won't Tell You About Periodical Cicada Brood XIX


With eyes of crimson and bodies black as tar, they scream incessantly in coordinated waves, tormenting all living souls. 

Cicadas...each individual is but a part of the demonic collective, one that exhibits signs of a bad mood after being buried in dirt for thirteen years.. 

Now, the collective has surfaced, escaped from its earthen sarcophagus to rage aloud, to spread word of the awakening. The weight of 112 trillion cicadas is too much for some trees to bear, while 224 trillion beady, blood-red eyes marvel at the destruction.

The awakening, and the blistering racket it brings, has an impact on more than just trees...it invades homes like yours. 

It punctures the shingles, penetrates the brick, vibrates the nails and rumbles the wood, accelerating the natural breakdown. Wind and rain, sun, ice and snow would take years to corrupt these materials, but the grotesque sound, the cacophony of the cicada collective, does it in a single summer. 

It rattles your familiar walls, shaking loose the secrets held there, spilling them out during your family dinner, ruining it for everyone -- as if you weren't going to ruin it yourself.

Some people become mildly irritated by the undulating noise, while others are driven to madness.

I happen to live in the area plagued by a specific demonic collective known as Periodical Cicada Brood XIX. If you live in this area, I'm sure you've heard enough about cicadas lately to write a Wikipedia page, and you're probably sick of their group buzzing exercises. 

I won't rehash all the media hype. I am here to tell you the things the media refuses to discuss.

As I mentioned before, some people are driven to madness by the cicada's chorus. This is not just a turn of phrase, it is the truth. 

No one wants to talk about the fact that a few thousand cicada's oscillating in harmony create distorted sound waves that are incompatible with the human ear. These waves breach the ear canal to infiltrate the brain. Unchecked by the ear drum, they cause physical harm to brain matter.

Even worse, the pressure created by the dour symphony squeezes on the skin, diving into the pores, forcing all manner of filth deep into the body. Bacterium, viruses, residue from lotions, all driven through the soft tissue. The unceasing hum passes through muscle as radiation would, striking the bone, rattling the marrow like a dentist's drill.

It isn't just humans who suffer from exposure to these distorted waves of malevolent music. If you haven't noticed, rabbits are on edge. Deer look annoyed. Squirrels are going nuts.

Bees, moths, mosquitoes, mayflies, and regular flies...they find themselves unable to navigate the invisible fog that clouds the air. Even those sons of bitches known as June-bugs, never known to be skilled aviators,  have increased difficulty running into light bulbs.

Birds do their damnedest to eradicate the plague, but they are outnumbered. Sad, sad birds. Well fed, but sad birds. Valiant, heroic birds.

All of this is disturbing, but not nearly as disturbing as what I am about to tell you.

Cicada-generated aural interference can disrupt radio signals. Television stations will go dark, top 40 radio stations will no longer keep the hits coming. The disruptions in the audible frequency band will block cellular service and disable WiFi networks. 

If cicadas ever decide to coordinate their efforts they will grind our economy to a halt. No more daily packages on the doorstep. No more food delivery options.

Pace makers are ineffective when cicadas are hollering. All forms of DIY medical tests fail. Blood sugar tests, COVID tests, pregnancy tests...all useless. Hearing aids are useless too.

The ghastly howls of the devil's choir prevent LED lights from lighting. They keep microwaves ovens from oven-ing. They bring down aircraft, raise tides, alter the orbit of the moon, and deplete the Earth's magnetic field. 

If cicadas, in their Satanic oneness, ever figure out how to skip their thirteen year nap we're all doomed.

So, to those who are mildly irritated by the sound of these bugs, I say, "Put down the strawberry milkshake, put on some pants, and start screaming back!

God help us all.