And Anansi is my favorite divinity
For the journal of a self-proclaimed animal-lover, I find that this page is cruelly lacking of zoological goodnesses. As such, today’s post shall revolve around one of the most amazing animals of this planet: I named spiders.
I fucking LOVE spiders. There I said it.
I know that they must be one of the most underappreciated wonders of the world and that a whole lot of people are terribly afraid of them, but I just don’t get it. I can’t see them as anything else than beautiful, useful (we would have been eradicated by ravenous bugs a long time ago without them) and all-around incredibly lovable. If you look at the amazing hunting techniques they display, at the stupefying complexity and genius at play in the making of webs, at the delightful cuteness (Yes! Cuteness!!!) of an eight-eyed baby and still come to me saying that you can’t stand them, I’m sorry but I’ll have to admit being unable to understand you on this.
The funny part in this whole spider business is that (with the noticeable exception of my father who’s totally indifferent to the subject , but still kinda likes webs) everybody in my family suffers from a rather acute arachnophobia. When my brothers happen to stumble upon an eight-legged cutie, they invariably shriek and run away waving their arms helplessly and bumping into walls like beheaded chickens; while my mother pitifully calls my name with some “help” or “please” thrown in the middle, waiting for me to (gently) retrieve the poor spider from the house.
I on the other hand can't never get enough of them. I have to plead guilty of destroying a fair number of webs in my younger years because I wanted to hold the arachnids in my hand and had to cruelly pry them from their hunting grounds for it. I would ultimately release the spider from my hold, but the wrongs were already done (I'm terribly sorry for this by the way, even if at the time I didn't know better).
The real irony in all is that I’m extremely allergic to spider bites. I’ve only been bitten twice in my rather short life, but both times led to an horrible extra-painful reaction which took almost a month to fade away...and I wasn't even lucky enough to ultimately end with super-powers.
Did it teach me to stay the hell away from them? Certainly not, I way too irresponsible for acting according to what seems the wisest. ;)
So to celebrate my fine eight-legged friends, I give you an arachnoïd picspam of doom!
Mike: "Take these you'll need them.
Chris McCormick: Perfume?
Mike: Well spiders have a highly developed sense of smell the perfume might confuse them.
Harlan: Great if we die we die smelling nice."
I fucking LOVE spiders. There I said it.
I know that they must be one of the most underappreciated wonders of the world and that a whole lot of people are terribly afraid of them, but I just don’t get it. I can’t see them as anything else than beautiful, useful (we would have been eradicated by ravenous bugs a long time ago without them) and all-around incredibly lovable. If you look at the amazing hunting techniques they display, at the stupefying complexity and genius at play in the making of webs, at the delightful cuteness (Yes! Cuteness!!!) of an eight-eyed baby and still come to me saying that you can’t stand them, I’m sorry but I’ll have to admit being unable to understand you on this.
The funny part in this whole spider business is that (with the noticeable exception of my father who’s totally indifferent to the subject , but still kinda likes webs) everybody in my family suffers from a rather acute arachnophobia. When my brothers happen to stumble upon an eight-legged cutie, they invariably shriek and run away waving their arms helplessly and bumping into walls like beheaded chickens; while my mother pitifully calls my name with some “help” or “please” thrown in the middle, waiting for me to (gently) retrieve the poor spider from the house.
I on the other hand can't never get enough of them. I have to plead guilty of destroying a fair number of webs in my younger years because I wanted to hold the arachnids in my hand and had to cruelly pry them from their hunting grounds for it. I would ultimately release the spider from my hold, but the wrongs were already done (I'm terribly sorry for this by the way, even if at the time I didn't know better).
The real irony in all is that I’m extremely allergic to spider bites. I’ve only been bitten twice in my rather short life, but both times led to an horrible extra-painful reaction which took almost a month to fade away...and I wasn't even lucky enough to ultimately end with super-powers.
Did it teach me to stay the hell away from them? Certainly not, I way too irresponsible for acting according to what seems the wisest. ;)
So to celebrate my fine eight-legged friends, I give you an arachnoïd picspam of doom!
Mike: "Take these you'll need them.
Chris McCormick: Perfume?
Mike: Well spiders have a highly developed sense of smell the perfume might confuse them.
Harlan: Great if we die we die smelling nice."