Monthly Archives: June 2008

Michelle Malkin is a racist bigot

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I can’t help myself.  I guess I’m on a political kick lately with this clueless twit…

John Scalzi summarizes it best.  Basically, Faux News used a racially charged and degrading slur against Michelle Obama.  To the rescue comes one bitch of an asshole, the contemptible Michelle Malkin, and she steamrolls through the KKK-provided headline with full support claiming—but of course!—that Faux News had every right to degrade and insult both Barack and Michelle Obama with such pathetic and obvious prejudice.

So, given that, let me play this game: Michelle Malkin is a C.H.I.N.K. W.H.O.R.E.

Wait a minute before you get all worked up.  C.H.I.N.K. W.H.O.R.E. is an acronym.  It means “CHINese-looKing Woman wHO Respects Ethnicity” and, I might add, is used with cultural appreciation and acknowledgment of Ms. I’m-a-Fucking’-Racist-Bigot Malkin.

Ugh.  Can I ever wash the hateful scourge and taint of her name from my mind?  I doubt it.  Seriously.

And let me add this: My acronym is personal for the queen bitch of the conservative universe and is in no way meant as a derogatory remark for anyone else.  In fact, I myself find it terribly offensive and unacceptable; nevertheless, what’s good for the goose…

I’m so going to get in trouble for this…

Rooting for the wasp

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I spoke to Jenny today regarding the paper wasp (possibly Polistes dorsalis)[1] that seems incapable of leaving the hedgerow lining my patio.  In fact, as of this evening the same wasp is in the same bush where I found it more than 28 hours ago.  Who knows how long it was there before I came home yesterday…

An unidentified paper wasp hanging out in the photinia bushes that surround my patio (20080611_06437)

Here’s what I know.

It’s a female.

She’s not dying, at least not directly from poison or physical injury.

She can’t fly, at least not yet.  Or perhaps ever.

She’s large, larger than the Polistes exclamans that visited me last month and who continues to visit me—or whose sisters and/or cousins continue to visit me.  Even today.

An unidentified paper wasp hanging out in the photinia bushes that surround my patio (20080611_06424)

I don’t know if this new wasp has some physical defect that prohibits her from taking wing, but I do know her attempts to flit into the sky are met with defeat time and time again.  Clumsy and uncontrolled, her efforts result in nothing short of misdirected departures and erratic crashes.

I find myself rooting for her success, wishing her the stamina needed to master flight so she can live her life with normalcy.[2]

As for why she can’t fly I can only assume.  Perhaps a genetic defect such as lacking a second pair of wings.  Perhaps a neurological defect such as not having a good sense of balance or sight.  Perhaps something else entirely.

An unidentified paper wasp hanging out in the photinia bushes that surround my patio (20080611_06366)

For now, she seems slightly less than panicked by the threats that face her: dehydration, starvation and predation.  Her lack of concern stems from her lack of appreciation for the circumstances she faces.  I am not so blinded.[3]

— — — — — — — — — —

[1] While these photos taken yesterday do little in assisting me with identification, I captured several more images today that could help, although I can’t promise that result for certain given this insect’s predisposition to remain within the photinia’s shadows and foliage such that photography becomes difficult.

[2] Time and again I have mentioned my dislike of paper wasps.  They are unpredictable, more so than yellow jackets as far as my experience is concerned, and they seem inclined to challenge my personal space and general health at every opportunity.  Nevertheless, the problems this one faces and its unusually calm interactions with me—thus far—force a certain gentle response from me that I otherwise would not proffer under these circumstances.

[3] Why do I find myself so worried about a creature that can harm me to a degree that is life-threatening?  My own mental health seems more in question than is the outlook for this relatively small insect…

Insects of June

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A brown-legged grass carrier (Isodontia auripes) scampering about in the dirt (20080601_05947)

I really wish that photo had turned out better than it did, for the brown-legged grass carrier (Isodontia auripes) is indeed a beautiful wasp.  Dark and iridescent, this indigo flyer is recognizable as the only member of its genus with the telltale brown legs.

It stood next to my foot when I snapped that picture, but it didn’t stay for long.  We regrettably found ourselves beneath a tree on a partly cloudy day, so I captured the image during the one opportunity I had to see it almost at rest.

A white checkered-skipper (Pyrgus albescens) slurping nectar from a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) flower (20080601_05980)

This white checkered-skipper (Pyrgus albescens) spent a great deal of time flitting from flower to flower in search of nectar.  In this case, upon a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale), the butterfly paused only momentarily for me to snap a photo, then off it went into the sky in search of more breakfast.

An elm sawfly larva (Cimbex americana) munching away on a leaf (20080601_05986)

The larvae of the elm sawfly (Cimbex americana), like all sawflies, looks much like the caterpillar of a moth or butterfly, but the adult is nothing short of a wasp’s cousin.  Despite visual similarities though, sawflies use their “stingers” as ovipositors rather than as weapons.  Still, given the size of this child, I’d hate to see the mother who gave birth to it.  She must be a formidable creature indeed.

A group of red imported fire ants (Solenopsis invicta) gathering at the edge of a mud puddle (20080601_06170)

In a photo, that to me is death on six legs.  Red imported fire ants (Solenopsis invicta) attack en masse.  The first sting releases a pheromone that causes the rest of them to swarm and assault anything that moves (movement spurs them to sting).

I found this small group at the end of a trail of ants winding its way through the grass.  They huddled together near the edge of a mud puddle, doing what I can’t say.  And I didn’t get close enough to look.  One fire ant sting would be bad enough given my heightened allergy to such things, but the very nature of these beasts ensures that it wouldn’t stop at just one.

A seven-spotted ladybird beetle (a.k.a. ladybug; Coccinella septempunctata) climbing through grass covered by cottonwood debris (20080601_06218)

Finally, this seven-spotted ladybird beetle (a.k.a. ladybug; Coccinella septempunctata) found itself trying to navigate a sea of cottonwood debris that covered the ground for some distance.  As it tried to hunt, it grew increasingly covered with the tree’s fibrous droppings.  I hadn’t the heart to tell it, at least relative to its size, that miles and miles of this summer snow surrounded it on all sides.  Only by taking to wing could it hope to escape.

[all photos taken June 1 at White Rock Lake]

An air of entitlement

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Vazra lying on the floor near a pool of sunshine (169_6927)

I find myself continually entertained by Vazra‘s air of entitlement.

This manifests evidently in the way he treats personal space, both his own and that of others.

If one of the other cats invades that space while Vazra is sitting or lying somewhere, he gets cranky, bitchy even, and he’ll complain obstreperously until the infraction is righted.  And don’t even think you intend to sit or lie against him in some way.  Why, when that happens, you’d think someone had stepped on his tail with all the moaning and groaning and complaining he does.

Yet when the tables are turned, attitudes change abruptly.

A perfect example is when I’m sitting on the couch.  You can bet two or more of The Kids will be with me.  When I have one on my lap and at least two others spread out beside me, that leaves no room for anyone else unless they choose an arm or the back of the furniture.

Vazra doesn’t see it that way.  When he wants to be on the couch with me, nothing stands in his way.  He’ll step all over any feline already there, and he’ll choose a spot and plant himself—even if that means on top of someone else.

This generally leads to what I call “The Great Upset” which entails everyone being dislocated as cats scramble and protest and hiss and throw a few swats.  All the while I sit and laugh until I cry, for when The Great Upset ends, Vazra is generally left with the couch and me all to himself.

But don’t you dare reverse the roles on him, for any feline assuming what’s good for the goose is good for the gander will find vehement grumbling and selfish hostility as his response.

Vazra sitting next to the patio doors within sunshine streaming in around him (190_9074)

Fledged

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Despite tempestuous winds that have pummeled North Texas this past week, powerful enough to call for a virtually week-long wind advisory, this morning offered the maiden flight of two juvenile mockingbirds.

Standing on the patio a few moments ago, I heard the raspy, tinny call of both of them, the two perched on opposite sides of the tree.  They have been out of the nest for at least a day, yet this marked the furthest they had ventured away from home.

Then the flutter of wings and a less than graceful landing on the patio roof signaled a change, a step toward adulthood.  I moved quickly to see what was happening and witnessed the fledgling give another short burst of flight which carried it back into the treetop.

Along came one of its parents, gleeful and proud and standing above the child with head held high, watchful and delighted and encouraging.

With equal abandon, the second bird took to the air in a wobbly yet brief flight, one that ended with it circling the tree and landing near its sibling.

Success!  Both survived, both grew, and now both fledged.

Flying still seems a bit awkward at best.  One landing only succeeded because a wing caught in the branches and stopped the young avian from plummeting down through the foliage.  It recovered quickly, however, hopped to another branch without so many obstacles, and tried again.  Without problems.

Close to home yet diligently working to become independent of the tree that has sheltered them, the two seem healthy, strong, intent, and willing to get up and try again when things don’t go according to plan.

Soon the tree will be empty of this family, refuge only for the temporary inhabitants who come and go at will.  Soon these two children will venture out one last time.  Soon they will not return.