Tag Archives: thorax

Bug

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Bug: (n) a small insect

Here was the explanation:

“You can always tell a black widow spider by the hourglass on its thorax.”

Please forgive me. There are so many things in that description I don’t understand, while meanwhile the little Dictionary Bbooger is biting and killing me.

I don’t like bugs.

I’m going to go one step further, because apparently I’m in a cranky mood.

I don’t like people who like bugs.

On this given day, I don’t even like bug-eyed people. I don’t think I’m alone–we don’t say somebody “antelopes” us. We say they bug us.

Spiders, bugs, insects or whatever categories they fall into, are all obnoxious. And they seem to warn us with their level of ugliness.

For instance, the common house fly is rather common. I know it spends an awful lot of time down at the poop pile, but other than that–and the fact that it occasionally buzzes me when I’m eating potato salad–it seems pretty harmless.

But then you have hairy spiders, long-legged spiders, insects with multiple numbers of legs–all of them warning you through their peculiarities to stay clear. A cockroach–two words that I never want to see together.

Also, I do not think it is fun to watch somebody handle a tarantula.

So when it comes to bugs, I am feeling my skin crawl even as I write this article.

Matter of fact, for the next hour I will probably assume there’s something creeping up my leg.

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Ant

dictionary with letter A

Ant: (n.) a small insect, often with a stinger, which usually lives in a complex social colony with one or more breeding queens.

I don’t know whether there’s any creature on this planet that has such a diverse range of public perception.

After all, the ant is the symbol of vigilance in our childhood tales, especially when competing with the lethargic and procrastinating grasshopper.

Rumor has it that with great persistence, they can actually move rubber tree plants.

We greatly applaud their colony for its efficiency, wondering why the “hill” in Washington, D.C., can’t pick up some pointers.

Yet we also get really upset when they show up at picnics. They are known to frighten children because of their occasional bad tempers, allegedly leading to stings.

So how it is possible to be considered such a diligent fellow, and then closed out from being welcomed by the picnic crowd?

There’s only one explanation.

They’re black.

Yes. It’s a race issue.

I’m not trying to play the “race tentacle” here, but it seems to me that if the ant were white–aside from being almost invisible, as most white creatures are–he (or it) would be more accepted.

This theory could be easily tested by allowing a black ant and a red ant to arrive at a picnic at the same time. Would we treat the red ant better? Or just move it to the side and let it build a casino?

These are questions that plague my thoughts.

Because if we’re trying to get rid of ants because they’re annoying and interfere with the hygiene of our food at outdoor meals, that is a legitimate concern.

But if there is any color discrimination here, I think we should get to the bottom of it.

(Even though I think an ant has a thorax and not a bottom…)

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