"Our research shows that implantable technology has developed to the point where implants are capable of communicating, storing and manipulating data," he said. "They are essentially mini computers. This means that, like mainstream computers, they can be infected by viruses and the technology will need to keep pace with this so that implants, including medical devices, can be safely used in the future."

I open an email from my Mother.

Usually she emails me new prayers to Jesus, trying to save me from eternal damnation, each one fitted with commentary at the end saying that my prayers won’t be answered unless I forward the email to twelve people in need, which is conveniently the same number of Jesus’ apostles.

There are always discussions on politics, on whether or not Barack Obama is the anti-Christ, whether Sarah Palin is a god sent suburban princess,

There are emails providing methods to better racially profile in order to secure a safe America.  This one gives me the shits. 

I get emails about how to be a better American, which I quickly delete after seeing images of soldiers, flags, bald eagles, and Uncle Sam pointing his exhausted finger at me.

According to these emails there is disease everywhere, lettuce is consistently ridden with salmonella, and there are microscopic creatures capable of floating through air and embedding themselves in our flesh. 

Pork is God’s sorrowed puppy. 

Her cousin Julie is dying of cancer, recovering, dying, recovering and dying, and homosexuals, no matter how hard they pray, will never get into heaven.

She sends me discussions on safe sex, and reminders that there are criminals everywhere ready to steal my identity and that I need to be on guard,

But this is where I become more uncertain of gravity.

I open emails about trunk monkeys, monkeys that you apparently keep in your trunk, backseat, or inside the passenger airbag that leap out assertively at the right moment wearing bow ties, bonnets, and carrying police batons.   

I receive emailed coupons for the liquor store so together we can liquor-up every Sunday. 

I get forwards from my aunt about how my cousin is surviving in Afghanistan where he’s apparently introducing U.S. military tactics to Afghan villages. 

But one forwarded email in particular discusses a new craze in Japan.  Women everywhere are wearing skirts with prints of panties twisted around asses, that look like see-through skirts. 

Some of them look pretty good.

Some of them look like half-eaten pieces of meat.

Regardless, I’m excited to see this trend reach the states so I can willingly mistake a designer skirt for a bare and beautiful ass.