The Blob is Here to Stay
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Scientists have recently discovered an immense blob living on the bottom shelf of my refrigerator. This blob is so dense that light can’t penetrate through it, so massive that it devours everything else around it. But since it’s not fuzzy purple yet, I might have it for lunch.

In case you’ve forgotten, the word “blob” is a scientific word, defined as a “coalesced mass of unrecognizable icky stuff that might be edible, but consumption is not recommended without killing it first with a truck load of Tabasco Sauce.” The blob in my refrigerator looks like it would laugh in the face of Tabasco Sauce.

I’m not exactly sure what this blob started out as—maybe a half-eaten slice of cheesecake, maybe leftover broccoli. Whatever it was, it has learned to adapt, to conquer, to multiply and divide, to work complex algebraic equations. It is self-aware, it is sentient, but, most importantly, it emits nauseating smells as a self-defense mechanism.

NEWS UPDATE: I’ve just returned from the refrigerator, where I embarked on a mission to rescue the sliced ham and pepper jack cheese because it’s lunch time and I’m really hungry. The blob took no notice of me. It was too busy painting graffiti on the walls. Gang signs. Things like, “Mold-siders are best,” “No carrots allowed,” and “Touch me and I’ll envelop you with deadly embryonic microorganisms!” Surprisingly, it has a good command of the English language.

Unidentifiable blobs are not new to mankind. Hollywood made a movie called The Blob back in 1958, starring Steve McQueen before he was picky about his movies. The movie’s theme song, “The Blob,” was one of Burt Bacharach’s first hits. It went something like this: “Beware of The Blob! It creeps and leaps and glides and slides. Across the floor, right through the door. And all around the wall. A splotch, a blotch. Be careful of The Blob!”

Grammy Award winning material, don’t you think?

In 1964, Marvel Comics introduced a new super villain named The Blob, who fought against the X-Men. Blob’s real name was Fred J. Dukes. He was born in Lubbock, Texas, was a circus performer, and was a member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants III—which I’m sure doesn’t surprise you one bit.

Unlike Wolverine, who was all buffed up with really cool knives and a Hollywood movie deal, The Blob was fat, mean, and really ugly, and he’s pretty much forgotten about these days. So, let’s continue to forget about him and move right along.

In 1994, strange blobs (in no way related to Blob the super villain) fell from the sky across Washington State. It was reported that people who touched the blobs got sick. Dogs and cats that came in contact with the stuff even died. More mysterious still, there were reports of UFOs and black helicopters seen in the area right before the blobs fell. And I know these reports are true because I read it on the Internet—the place where all serious journalists go to do research.

More recently, astronomers found an enormous blob in deep space, which may have a massive black hole at its center. It’s 12.9 billion light years away from Earth and 55,000 light years wide. Astronomers even gave it a name—Himiko. Of course, they didn’t ask the blob for approval—they just did it on their own. A space blob billions of light years away really can’t throw a fuss about the name it’s been given.

I’d give my blob a name, but it’s right in the next room, and it probably knows Kung Fu.

Which begs the question, if a blob had its choice of names, would it want to be called Blob? Maybe it would prefer James or Toby. How about something snazzy like Maximillian? My guess is it would probably choose Spike or “Globule of Death,” then grow a Mohawk and get a tattoo.

Mankind knows very little about blobs. There are no college courses in Blobatomy; there is no community need for a Bloberinarian or a Blobecologist. But maybe there should be. Maybe the study of Blobology would give us a better understanding of blobs, their culture and way of life. Because, folks, let’s face it—they’re not going away. They’re here to stay. And I know this because I just looked in my refrigerator, and the “Globule of Death” is digging foxholes and putting up concertina wire.

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