A Cybermanifesto

Look, I know you have to be wacked-out to follow a blog like this. I get that. Still, I was unprepared to receive the following missive from the yola-ite known only as Cyberdrew. I reprint his message here in full, including the disturbing photographs, in hopes that someone out there knows where to find him, and can thus alert Homeland Security, the nearest loony-bin, or at the very least Dr. Who.

Puny humans, rejoice! Your deliverance is at hand. The age of the Cybermen fast approacheth! (I kid you not, he actually said approacheth! – Y.)

Long have we waited, long have we yearned for your primitive technology to reach a level suitable to receive the glorious gift of our assistance. That momentous moment (Oy vey! – Y.) has nearly arrived.

Maybe you think you know about Cybermen from what you’ve seen on the infantile teleplay known as Dr. Who. You know nothing! We allowed our likenesses to be employed in that trite entertainment merely to lull the suspicions of your leaders. As long as they believed we could be easily banished to another dimension by an idiot in an antique police call box, we knew they would take no serious preparations to resist us.

But know this: We lurk in secret no longer. Recruitment has begun, and you may be next to join us. Thanks to the worldwide proliferation of this thing you call the Internet (little knowing it is actually the Cybernet, invented by us), we can now send transmissions through your computing device to irrevocably alter your genetic structure. All we require is that you remain online a minimum of 17.5 minutes, and you will be placed in queue for transformation into a Cyberman (or, for the liberated potentially child-bearing types among you, Cyberchick).

If you are not transformed on your first, second, or even thousandth attempt, do not despair. Your time will come. The longer you remain online, the greater your odds of metamorphosis. Selected test subjects have already joined us. You could be next! --Cyberdrew

Yeah, and any second now, monkeys are going fly out of my butt. Still, it took me just over seventeen minutes to type this, so toodles! – Y.