in which jon is overwhelmed by the urge to kill
It was huge. It was moving across the top of the wall opposite me, a mobile, brown stain on all that is domestic and familiar. I don't remember when my revulsion toward large, winged insects was programmed into me; it was probably wired somewhere between ancestral DNA and the poolside wasp attack when I was five. While I regard the prejudicial
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Seriously, though, I think you've opened up a thought-provoking inquiry for why we have such a visceral reaction to bugs... I think a lot of it has to do with our associations with bugs. They live in dark, moist places... They're attracted to defecation and decay... They're everywhere... They swarm... And, to top it all off, some of them can bite, sting, or get stuck in our eye juices.
Invasion, though, is a funny idea. Insects have been here for millions of years--one can argue that we are the invaders, and the insects are just fulfilling the possibilities of the new niches that we involuntarily provide. Pesticides don't do much besides putting more selection pressure on them. Meaning... Super bugs! In a few million years, our constant war on them might force them to develop, not just chemical resistance, but intelligence and society. And we'll all die unexpectedly from nukes launched by the subterranean civilizations of the Róch-krazul.
Me? I honestly, fully, and completely respect the Great Ancestors of our future insectoid overlords! Really! All hail the chitinous ones!
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Hmm.
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Why wasn't that a yearbook superlative?
Most cunning, twisted, and deadly:
Jon Kaplan!
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