the eXile - editorial

Issue #03/84, February 29 - March 10, 2000

After thorough consideration of the matter, the management of the eXile has concluded that, contrary to the pronouncements of conventional critics, the duck is indeed a far inferior animal to the rabbit. The recent advance of the duck in the public eye is, we believe, a clear if understandable error of judgment on the part of a society still far too dependent on narrow, outdated modes of thinking.

We all know the arguments. The duck, they say, is superior to the rabbit because unlike the rabbit, it has in its bill a hard, exoskeletar mouth, better-suited than the rabbit’s for prodding and wedging. Analysts have long known that the duck floats, unlike the rabbit; this, too, is often (and particularly often lately) offered as evidence in favor of the duck. The duck also quacks, while the rabbit just sits there mute at all times, even in panic. You can throw anything at a rabbit, for instance a nerf football, and the only thing it can do is peek sideways at you and get out of the way.

Though it may not be more advanced yet, the duck clearly has more potential. All that is needed, apparently, is time, effort, and an aggressive program of investment.

We at the eXile disagree. Take the duck in this picture, for instance. Just seconds after we took this photo, we smacked it on the bill with a spatula, and it didn’t say a fucking thing. All it did was freak out and fly away in a cloud of feathers. As we sat there watching it from the ground, it slowly climbed high straight up into the air, then leveled off somewhat and headed in a southwesterly direction.

The duck thought it had gotten away, but it was mistaken. Just a few yards from where we were standing we had waiting, rotors humming, a Sikorsky Skycrane helicopter--a massive and somewhat inconveniently difficult to maneuver aircraft, but a marvel of engineering all the same. After giving the prearranged signal, the pilot, who just that morning had caved in to our lowball hourly rate offer of 150 bucks, opened the passenger door and lifted off as we bounded in.

We pursued the duck. We might have attached a homing device to its foot, but it seemed more sporting to rely on visual contact only. After a few minutes we spotted the duck flapping helplessly at a low rate of speed in the same southwesterly direction. It might have been a different duck, of course, but we doubt it; it had the same markings as our original bird.

We closed in. The Skycrane is an ungainly machine but still much faster than a duck. It was likely that we would overtake it if we couldn’t disable it on the first pass. Overtaking it would have been no big loss--we could always turn back and make another pass--but we weren’t up there to waste time. We were there to do a job.

Following the strategy we’d worked out with the pilot, we ascended to an altitude about 200 meters above the duck and slowed our airspeed to a near-hover. We’d outfitted our helicopter with a tank full of deadly nerve gas that on command would be released below us into the air through a powerful steam-pressured spray nozzle. As we approached the duck, we reached over to the panel display and pressed the blinking red button. Just as we’d planned, a giant cloud of potent gas erupted from our cargo bay, engulfing the air around the duck. It would only be seconds now.

We whipped around and watched as the duck sputtered, went limp, and tumbled awkwardly end over end to the ground. Binoculars ready, we marked the spot. Then we waved to our pilot, who touched the helicopter down a hundred yards or so away.

Safely protected by gas masks, we exited the copter armed with Uzi submachine guns and machetes and ran predatorily to the spot where the felled duck lay. Already dead, it made an easy target. From twenty yards--our standard practice distance--we unloaded our clips into the duck, speckling the ground with rounds shot in perfect figure eights. Feathers burst high into the air; bits of matter spattered in various directions. When we were finished, there was nothing left but a small red spot on the ground and a piece of webbed foot.

We took that bit of webbed foot with us. As we write this it is nailed to the wall behind our monitor. So much for the duck.

In contrast, we haven’t done a thing to a rabbit lately.

It is often said that the duck is superior to the rabbit. Others, on the contrary, claim that the rabbit is not so bad either. The latter group of voices may simply like the rabbit’s cute and fuzzy ears. Or it may have a point. We at the eXile can’t say for sure who’s right. One thing’s for sure, however; time will tell.

Links