Dwight Schrute was born to serve, defend, and fight in an organized militia, so, naturally, I joined the neighborhood watch.  Unfortunately the other vigilantes of the group don't share my enthusiasm for the post.  They refuse to hide out in ditches, dumpsters, and under cars.  The ski masks and tasers I've given them are not utilized; instead they insist on arming themselves with just mobile phones and whistles.  How are they going to disarm a criminal using a whistle?  I know how to, but I strongly doubt they do.  Most frustrating, they won't let me light my flashbangs; that really pisses me off - I spent $800 on those!  

Last week, those morons asked me not to participate in the neighborhood watch anymore (they're still upset about the tear gas incident).  Well good riddance, they never appreciated all that I've done.  The streets will never be safe without me.  Kids will be free to speed down their streets, break curfew, and blanket their houses in toilet paper.  It's going to be total anarchy!  I'm just grateful I don't live in that neighborhood.

We live in a culture of fear, but are we sufficiently afraid? I think not. Sure, our parents and the media have taught us to properly fear rogue ninjas who don't abide by the samurai code and others who overtly wish us harm, but when it comes to danger, most people only seem to pay attention to the loudest of warning signs (as evidenced by the dramatic increase in newspaper deliverymen getting run over by silent hybrid vehicles). Although the average Joe seldom pays attention, there are all manner of "silent killers" lurking around every corner, wishing us harm every moment of every day.

Of the many silent killers, perhaps none is more deadly than the sun. In our heliocentric universe, the sun insists on being the center of attention, so when people choose to ignore its awesome power, it punishes them with burns, melanomas, and poisonous overdoses of Vitamin D. I value my life, so every morning I massage my bare flesh with a homemade sunblock (a combination of zinc oxide, titanium dioxide, shredded beeswax, coconut oil, and just a touch of whatever cured meat I have laying around to give it a pleasant aroma). Once the ointment is thoroughly rubbed in, I put on my polarized sunglasses, step outside, and stare death in the face - not in a taunting way, just in a "hello old friend, I realize that you have the ability to boil my skin and I respect that, but I'm not going to hide from you, because I've already had rickets once and I'd prefer not to go through that again," sort of way.

As impressive as the sun is, if I were going to be a silent killer, I'd definitely be a mute, employed as an assassin. My so-called handicap would actually provide me with a deadly advantage - a chip on my shoulder that compels me to prove to the world I can do anything and everything as well as a regular person, especially murder. If they ever brought me in for questioning, I can guarantee you, no matter how hard they interrogated me, I'd never say a word. Best of all, if I were the first mute assasin, they'd pretty much have to give me the most rock and roll nickname of all-time: "The Silent Killer!" And long after I'd hung up my killing shoes, I could live out the remainder of my days as a symbol of hope, not just to other mutes, but for all the physically disadvantaged.

When foreign species are introduced to our ecosystem they become invasive, wrecking havoc on our natural environment by harming the safety of its indigenous species.  It happened with the rock pigeon, the Asian carp, the domestic cat, the alligators in the New York City sewage system, and Persians.  I used to hold invasive species in high regard, they are naturally superior and so they deserve whatever they take over.  But now that invasive species are running rampant on Schrute Farms, I've changed my tune.

Because some irresponsible traveler just had to have their goutweed, it's become a nuisance in the American North East, and on my farm.  Indigenous to Russian Asia, this plant was aggressively monopolizing suckle Schrute soil and blocking sunlight from our beloved beet crops.  Traditional Amish farming methods do not address such a problem; I tried cutting it down, pulling the roots out, prayer and sacrifice... Nothing was working.

As everyone knows, the only way to fight an invasive species is with another invasive species, so I introduced kudzu (an Asian ivy that is notorious for its rapid growth, camouflaging abilities, and rich leafy scent) to Schrute Farms with hopes that it would strangle the goutweed.  It did!  However, the kudzu became difficult to control, attacking our beet crops even more furiously than the goutweed.  Plus it grew over a couple scarecrows, our chicken coop, the Mannheim gravestones, and Mose's favorite outhouse.

The kudzu's days are numbered because soon I will demonstrate my superiority over our ecosystem.  To kill the kudzu I'm using an old Mannheim weapon that dates back to the 60s: the herbicide nitrofen mixed with a little Agent Orange. After it does the trick and kills everything in its path, it will prove that I, Dwight K Schrute, am the most invasive species of all.  

The human obsession with all things "cute" has become nothing short of a pandemic.  Our infatuation with creatures exhibiting pedomorphosis, the retention of child-like characteristics (such as large eyes and big heads), has allowed a plethora of dangerous and often deadly creatures to literally find their way into our hearts, devouring our most vital organ once they gain access.  And it's not just the creatures we traditionally associate with attacks: cute spiders and snakes.  A wide variety of the animals we least expect have been on a veritable killing spree of late.

Mankind's closest living relative, the chimpanzee, are the most dangerous and deceptive of killers, lulling weak-minded humans into a false sense of confidence with those "adorable" big, white, smiling teeth.  But the chimps are only smiling because they're thinking about using those "adorable" teeth to feast on your flesh and then steal your bananas.  And it's not just the teeth you have to worry about--it's their human-like hands.  They use their opposable thumbs to rip off your opposable thumbs.  That's right, they're aware of the evolutionary advantages of opposable thumbs and they don't want you to have them.  Plus, they'll go after your eyes, ears, noses, and testicles.

There are all-manner of animals touting their cute characteristics, waiting for us to let our guard down, so they can more easily strike us down.  Beware of the following so-called "cute" animals: Giant Panda Bears--use a little common sense, if you didn't know what a Giant Panda Bear was, would you befriend a creature that was described as "giant" and "bear-like"?  I think not.   Hedgehogs--a certain video game franchise coupled with the widespread email forwarding of baby hedgehog photos has caused people to think they're cute and cuddly.  Come on people, think; their bodies are covered in spikes!  Koala--people assume that since they're cute herbivores they must be "cuddly-wuddly," but these marsupials have sharp claws, a nasty temperament, and they won't hesitate to cut you.  It just goes to show, you can't trust any creature that has a bifurbicated (forked) penis.  These animals, and other killers just like them, are truly putting the "cute" in "execute."

So what can you do?  Well for starters, buy mink coats.  Also, fox, chinchilla, and leopard-skin.  Test medications, toiletries, cleaning products, and experimental surgeries on sweet-looking critters, not humans.  Stop trying to domesticate adorable animals that clearly should remain in their natural habitat and be hunted there.  And remember to look past these animals' big cute eyes and see them for the vicious and ruthless killers they actually are.

Animals should be viewed only as a means of labor, food, or both. That's it. Forming bonds with members of the animal kingdom is a waste of time. I always thought that Jane Goodall was a fool (why'd she mingle with those baby apes, was she barren?). I'm not fond of my mule; I'm fond of the way my mule pulls my buggy. I didn't like my prized goose; I liked the way her liver tasted. Animals are only good for the services they provide, which is why I'm opposed to the new friendship forming at the Schrute Farm, between Mose and his pet pig.

Mose and his hog, Birgit, named after his favorite aunt/sister, have been inseparable. They go everywhere and do everything together: eat whopping pies together, sing Deutsche Volkslieder together, churn butter together, drink molasses together, slaughter other pigs together... So he was a little more than disappointed when I told him we had to kill the pig.

Since then, Mose has been trying to convince me to let him keep the pig. He's been getting all sorts of ideas from TV. He used spider webs to weave, "Sum Pig" over Birgit's stall. Then he tried to teach the pig to herd sheep (he's been watching a lot of ABC Family). But I have big plans for that pig; I was going to use him to make bacon, sausage, chitterlings, gammon, grinds, headcheese, and a set of matching boots & a hat.

Normally I would make Mose slaughter the pig himself, to teach him that animals are our subordinates. But I don't think Mose can do it. When Mose gets separated from something he loves, he spirals into a deep depression. When we took away his favorite cornhusk doll, he wouldn't come out to do his chores or even play a tune on his jug. I hate it when Mose gets that way, plus those chores aren't going to do themselves. So, although I'm still staunchly against it, I'm going to let Mose keep his pet pig... at least until she reaches 250kg.