The following was inspired by my recent purchase of the clever and entertaining book, The Bees, by Laline Paull. All characters are fictional and should not be confused with real scientists. I especially ask that no bee researcher take offense, as 80 percent of science writers would shrivel up and die if you stopped talking to us.
I sat alone again in the cafeteria again today. Ordered the schnitzel. No one wanted to sit next to me. Of course. No one ever wants to sit next to me. They all want to sit with the bee scientists.
Stupid bee scientists, like they are all that great. All clustered together at the other table like stupid little drones, buzzing about who’s cool and who’s not. All the pretty evolutionary psychologists and ethologists at their table. Talking about complex social dynamics, solar navigation, and collective intelligence. Chicks love that stuff.
Then they just get up in their stupid little hive and all leave together. When they walk past my table one of them is like, “hey, how are the yellow jackets?” Which totally a stupid thing to say since vespula isn’t even that big a part of vespoidea, like everyone always thinks. But then someone else snickers and says, in a really low voice but not that low, “ants with wings.”
Unbelievable.
People don’t understand that wasps are so much cooler than stupid bees. Wasps are shiny and clean. Like a sports car. Or a really expensive espresso machine that’s never even been used. Wasps have jaws. Which is cool. Bees are furry and disgusting. Like a monkey, except without the tool use. They’re also fat and can barely fly and have gross, alien mouths. Little pricks – they’re not even native. Continue reading
One night this spring I left all the doors open to the van. It was stinkier than usual, and I figured anyone who thought they might peer inside would have found little of value before being frightened off by the smell.
An anonymous guest poster is sure that fairygodmotherhood is