May 18, 2005

  • It's A Bug's Death

    Well, the exterminator came this morning, not to be mistaken for the
    EX-terminator AHH-NOLD, current governator of California.  I've had
    the windows and doors open for much of the day and yet every corner of
    the house remains permeated with the "pleasant" scent of DEET Potpourri
    (whatever you do, don't buy that stuff).  Ahh, the toxicity, the  wondrous
    carcinogeneity!  At least Planty has not keeled over yet. 

    When the exterminator called and asked if I had any pets, I forgot to
    tell him about my free-range ant farm, but I hadn't seen the little
    guys in quite a while.*  I must clarify it was NOT my choice
    to exterminate.  My landlord arranged for the evil deed to be
    done.  If it were up to me, I'd just leave the pests alone. 

    Really, why bother the insects? 
    Why treat them with disdain instead of according them the respect due
    our fellow life forms.  Sure, they may bug you from time to time
    or creep you out, but who among us can say they haven't been annoyed or creeped out by
    their fellow human beings occasionally?  Perhaps you can recall a
    time when you yourself were the one on the bugging end--the "annoying little
    bugger," so to speak.  Is an
    exterminator called in every time to do in the "annoying bugger," whatever size
    they may
    actually be?  No, of course not,
    but we don't hesitate to blast away at our little insect
    friends with our dangerously poisonous poisons all the time.  And then we
    expect
    them to behave
    nicely when we go out on a picnic or a leisurely romp through the
    swamp.  Why, if we just treated them nicely, they'd be
    much more inclined to
    leave us alone instead of invading our food supply or swarming viciously around
    us in a stinging cloud, like we so clearly deserve.  Maybe if we
    just let the roaches in our homes
    remain unsquished by foot or flyswatter, un-terminated by the
    exterminator, the shackles of human oppression would be lifted and
    they would feel comfortable sticking around to
    have some meaningful dialogue with us.  We humans could
    really learn a lot from our creepy, crawly, icky arthropod buddies, if
    we'd just take the time to realize that...bugs are people too
    (anthropomorphically speaking, of course).  I'm talking about real
    dialogue
    here, not "Shut up, you [swear word] crickets, I'm trying to
    sleep!" or "Die, foul mosquito! Die!"  There'd be a lot less
    stinging, biting, and bloodsucking going on if we humans would just be
    civil for once.  Think about it.  

    *Plagiarism alert:  I think
    there was a storyline in one of Darby Conley's Get Fuzzy books
    involving a free-range ant farm, but not one of the ones I've read
    lately

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