Thursday, July 21, 2011

The black flag of victory

Since I am a bit of a dirt dweller myself, other than lawyers, I don’t have too many phobias concerning bugs and high-flying insects. With that said however, I do not prefer eating, hearing or sleeping with lofty crawlies of any kind, no matter how beneficial or environmentally attractive they are to mankind. I know I am considered to BEE close-minded and a Neanderthal ‘buzz-kill’ in the eyes of today’s ‘accept and settle’ culture. But honestly, I work hard to stay on my side of the swatter and I want bugs to show some self-control and keep their probosci to themselves too!

Why is it whenever I meander out to the junk-mail box in a perpetual sleep-deprived stupor, I receive my own personal air show and am routinely accosted by unidentified buzzing objects (UBO)? I rarely ask for such top drawer attention or expect recognition for the contents of any of my drawers for that matter. Only on special occasions like kin-folk weddings and voodoo blood-lettings do I sweat so alluringly and carry buckets full of rancid chicken pickens and grill thrills. I even hide from the FedEx guy and the Wells Fargo wagon unless they need me to punch their buttons so why would I ever want to commune with, much less SEE bees?

I know what you are thinking “Don’t sweat it, like your blog they’re insensitive irritants so that’s what they’re supposed to do – BUG YOU”. The issue is a matter of respect for myself and others in the ‘NoMo insectual” community. I don’t ask or tell my ilk to go out of their way to bump n’ run into horse flies or other insects with throat problems and mess up their family harmony. I have enough class to know when my stinger’s exposed I never buzz, and only rarely whine, while circling around other people’s sweaty foods and hairy hides.

I likely would not have a problem with the high and flighty bugs in my life if they would just back off their ‘bizzy’ schedule a tad and stick to Dolly Parton’s nine to five instead of 7/11’s twenty four / seven . I’ve grown tired of getting thumped in the rump and playing badminton with these little winged shuttlecocks by my moonlight. I think It’s high time for one side or the other to give-up but I refuse to wave white. No my red badge of discourage shuns surrender and will never budge to bothersome bugs or nettlesome gnats, because my victory FLAG only comes in one intoxicating shade – BLACK!