|"This derriere is loaded, and I'm not afraid to use it!"|
Holy procrastination, Batman! I just checked my last blog entry and noticed it is almost a YEAR old! The gist of it was some nonsense about how I'd not been writing enough, and a recommitment to post more frequently... now, February two thousand-thirteen, I'm ready to get going again. (As I've said before, I'm nothing if not unreliable. It's one of my endearing qualities.)
So today, I give you an ingenious little observation from number-one-son, Caleb, who's almost six now. He recently noted:
Bees are like flies with weapons. And the weapon is their butt!*
You have to hand it to him, that's pretty insightful.
We've had some minor skirmishes with hornets around our place. These usually start when one of us humans makes an unauthorized incursion into the airspace surrounding their little paper fortress--a completely innocent mistake. They send an immediate tactical response in the form of a stinging frenzy, no doubt claiming this is a reasonable, defensive move. Knowing this attack was unjustified, not to mention overreaching, and being keenly aware that I sit about nine steps up the food chain from these nasty vermin, I run to Lowe's for a weapon of mass destruction:
|I've studied law of armed conflict, and I realize this violates the principle of proportionality.|
Don't judge me. That only applies to human vs. human conflict.
That's right, I resort to chemical warfare and annihilate their entire colony. Right now the score is something like me: 10 or 12, horrible little stinging insects: 0, although one of their special ops commandos once succeeded at his mission to sting me in the shower. (That incident ended with me yelling some words I'm not proud of, and him drowning in our drain. My nakedness did not leave me unarmed, because I had a loofa!)
* People make similar statements about yours truly when we're in a confined space together an hour or two after I've eaten a big bowl of chili.