The tragic tale of Captain Birdbrain

Recently, through the efforts of a reader who diligently keeps me abreast of all things strange and bizarre, it was brought to my attention that there exists amongst the picturesque cornfields of Iowa, a place known as the Maharishi Vedic City. When I say city, I use it in a very loose sense of the word since it consists primarily of a number of houses built in close proximity.

The purpose behind this city, ostensibly, is to achieve permanent world peace. A noble objective,wouldn't you say, especially in these violent and troubled times. However, you might, and quite understandably, pose the question, in what specific manner would a community of people living in already peaceful rural Iowa hope to affect and reduce the violence occurring in a different part of the world not as liberally endowed with cornfields? Fortunately, in the words of the Maharishi Vedic City website administrator, technology exists that can achieve this goal.

Many scientific studies have shown that when the square root of one percent of a population is practicing the Transcendental Meditation and TM-Sidhi program including Yogic Flying at the same time then accidents, terrorism, drug abuse and other problems are reduced significantly, and increasing positive influences such as improved health, economy, and well-being of the individual and society occur spontaneously.

That was the sound of me screaming for joy. World peace, here I come. So in other words, all that needs for world peace to be achieved is a collection of people, all simultaneously engaged in the transcendental meditation. What's the catch, you say? Well, the catch is, all these meditating people have to belong to that section of society which is usually prone to committing acts of violence. If these people are meditating, they obviously won't be killing anyone, thus achieving peace. Ha ha. Actually, I was just kidding. There is no catch.

But hold on, what is this about yogic flying? The institute purports to teach vedic scholars studying there how to fly. In fact, they have a "Yogic flying hall" in each of their classrooms where students can learn how to defy gravity.

Notice anything strange about the place? Why would a room, where students are expected to routinely hover in mid-air, require "highest quality 6-inch foam mattresses" on the ground? If you're gonna be flying around the joint, wouldn't you expect the walls to be padded? Or the ceiling? In fact, coming right down to it, if you were to be bestowed the gift of flight, why would you partake of it in a closed room in the first place? Wouldn't you prefer to do it outside where the chances of suffering a mid-air collision with your fellow gravity-defiers would be significantly reduced?

Ah, but there's a reason behind it. See, it turns out, yogic flying isn't actually flying as such. As the wiki describes it, "While sitting cross-legged or in a "lotus" position, yogic flyers can move around in a hopping kind of motion." It's yogic hopping, that's what it is.

Yes, you may cancel your ticket to Iowa now. So to summarize, the folks at the Maharishi Vedic Institute believe that if one percent of the population of America were to hop around in the lotus position, such as these good folks who, curiously enough, have allowed their hopping to be captured for posterity, it would reduce the amount of violence currently prevailing in American society. You know, this would be a good time to stop screaming for joy.

But what about all those people who enrolled in this institute to learn how to fly and achieved mastery in hopping instead? Here is an example of one such individual. He was a quiet boy, a fan of comic book superheroes. Each time he returned from watching a Superman movie, he used to stand on his porch, towel tied around his neck, underwear and shorts interchanged, and stare at the sky, wishing with all his heart, oh, but if only he could fly.

And then, he found out about this mystical place in Iowa that could quite possibly help him achieve his dream. He would become a superhero and fight crime. He even came up with a name for his new self. Captain BirdBrain. He sewed himself a costume out of his mother's spandex leotard, the only garment he would be wearing from now on. And then, he flew to Iowa. On a plane. On his way, he couldn't help but chuckle at his co-passengers. Soon he would be cruising outside their windows and they would look at each other with wonderstruck eyes and whisper, "Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a grown man wearing a leotard. Oh, oh, wait, it's Captain BirdBrain".

But Destiny wasn't prepared to cooperate with him. After spending eleven years, yes eleven, at the Institute trying to develop his aeronatical skills, he finally gave up. He realized that the Maharishi International University had fooled him. So he sued them for "emotional damage" and won.

U.S. District Court jury here ordered two Transcendental Meditation organizations yesterday to pay almost $138,000 to a man who contended said the organizations falsely promised he could learn to fly.

Eventually, although Captain Birdbrain never learnt how to fly, he did become a role model for future generations. Because of his pioneering superhero aspirations, we now know that being a birdbrain can no longer be a legitimate excuse for failing in life. As long as there are people who can be blamed for your own lack of intelligence, there will always be a chance for you to make it big by suing them.

Although I can't help but wonder about all those superheroes out there, graduates of the Maharishi International University, who are hopping around, fighting crime in society, all the while laboring under the mistaken belief that they are actually flying.