For decades, elitists around the planet have been goading weak-minded Americans into following their lead. Whether it is over-priced gas, mail service, organic produce, miniature vehicles, or population densities resembling sardine cans, foreigners have elevated themselves into a position of acme.
Of course, our own overly educated, easily-influenced citizenry has proven not to be the deep thinkers they’d like to be.
This past year marked another season that happens only every 17-years, the return of the cicadas. I’ll put that in a title form to help you better digest the gist of this story. “The Return of the Cicadas” almost sounds like a B-movie starring Christopher Lee. But it is not.
It seems as though nature contains a creature that eerily resembles Nancy Pelosi, replete with bulging eyes and giant wings. They rise from their underground homes every seventeen years to procreate, and then die.
Mouth watering delicacy, and Nancy Pelosi look-alike
These two-inch long creatures make no effort to hide their mission for emerging from their underground sleeping accommodations for just a brief period, during which they molt, re-harden their exoskeleton, mate, and after laying their eggs, pass on to a giant insect Heaven.
Seventeen years later, the cycle restarts and we are tormented once again because of the eggs laid by their ancestors..
However, the torment doesn’t come from the cicadas themselves; rather it oozes from the media, who appear to be desperately searching for something important on which to report.
Forget about hapless President Joseph Robinette Biden, wretched VP Kommie La Harris, COVID-19 lies, out-of-control inflation, soaring interest rates, oil pipeline moratoria, systemic racism fibs, anti-science mask-wearing mandates, fake global climate emergencies, hyping electric vehicles, athletes disrespecting our national flag, dumbing-down our students, and elevating George Floyd to religious icon status, all the media could find on what to report was bugs.
I’ve had my share of ants, cockroaches grasshoppers, crickets, bees, flies, gnats, mosquitoes, and other annoying Democrats, over the years. I found that just a spritz from a can of aerosol insecticide usually does the trick of eliminating many of these common annoyances. But I digress.
But uncreative reporters have resorted to inundating the media, which I usually follow, with inane stories about the 17-year cicada “Brood-X.”
This is the granddaddy of cicada appearances during which literally millions of these virtually harmless critters dig their way out of the soil only to loudly chirp, in unison, mocking what I would expect a UFO to sound like.
This chirp is a mating call which they hope will lead to a successful “hookup” with an opposite sex cicada. The opposite sex part is necessary for the Brood-X to make a return visit to the Earth’s surface in another 17-years, you see.
In any case, the media has been
preoccupied with the way other countries around the world have been handling
this same phenomenon. Now they expect
Americans to adopt the practices of
Yes, indeed, they want you and me to gather these sex-driven noise-makers up and bring them inside to summarily turn them in a culinary masterpiece, something seen only by the likes of a fellow named Andrew Zimmern.
Zimmern has/had a show on one of
those cooking networks that features bizarre “foods” such as leeches,
tarantulas, and liver. As an aside, I’m just kidding about the
liver, which I personally enjoy.
But with actual headlines such as: “The Cicadas are Coming. Let’s Eat Them!” “Earth Notes: Eat More Bugs” “Can You Eat Cicadas? Yes…” “You Should Start Eating Bugs. Here’s How” and “Cicada Pizza…” Yum. My mouth is watering as I write.
Of course the gist of all this is not to consume cicadas or any other type of bug, rather it is to compare Americans to other nations around the world that are starving because of poor soil, lack of water, non-existent farm machinery, oppressive governments, and state-owned farms whose harvest is largely used for the benefit of their armies.
This all plays into the
monumental leap of attempting to call
So when you hear the anointed talk about recipes for pancrustacean hexapod invertbrates, tell them, “You first!”
