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Friday, November 21, 2008

with a swatter that shines like justice

Big Orange, my trusty steed.

On this, the (cross your fingers) last day of the Wasp Dynasty, let us pause for a moment of reflection. I will not miss the wasps. I am glad they are dying. I hope they all die, especially the mothers and children. It may surprise you that not only do I thinkswear, but I also harbor repressed violent tendencies. I know, next I'm going to be telling you that a dog/cat breeding will not bear viable offspring. But with the recent necessity of killing numerous wasps daily, I have derived a great deal of pleasure from swatting a wasp out of the air, then beating the living snot out of him until his exoskeleton bursts and the gooey innards spill forth, while his stinger stabs and stabs and stabs. Yippee ki yay, indeed. I realize that the wasps don't care if I dispatch them with extreme prejudice, but I do. It's satisfying to take an autonomous being and bend it to my will, since I'm only SURROUNDED by all these other autonomous beings that care not a whit what I say. In the absence of parental programming I would have been a terrific dictator. Thanks a lot, mom and dad, geez. Way to kill my career goals.

So long, wasps. You were a worthy foe.

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