Halloween is Upcoming

Yes. One of Americanoland’s official, overtly pagan holidays is just around the bend or this evening, whichever comes first. Last Halloween, many may recall that Karl the Tracker Druid , Karl’s trusty saddle mare, Prissy, and Karl’s pet mule, Ajax, dressed up as Ronald Reagan plus the 20 mule team hauling Boraxo hand soap. Pretty good because only Ajax is an actual mule.

Imagine everyone’s surprise when the cleverly disguised Karl knocked us up, then announced, Hello, who’s for hand soap. The situation at the Cow Barn front door was just too droll last Halloween. Because only Red uses Boraxo and Red never answers to the dragonfly door knocker.

The fact is, my bosom companion Ray, answered the door. Yet when he finally actually opened the door, the Joke Factory bunch had already off loaded a 13 year supply of hand soap onto the front porch. Ray couldn’t even look out. Ray couldn’t even espy across the yard due to all the boxes of hand soap dispensers that were already off loaded. What a great trick that was!

So ever since last Halloween, Red has mandated the use of Boraxo in the Boy’s Restroom. He tried to simultaneously mandate Boraxo in the Lady’s Facility also. But the ladies don’t like Boraxo. I like it OK. Still, I may not like it well enough for perpetual use.

Well, everyone decided eventually that we needed to use the boxes up that were in front of the door first. Now, a year later, we have used about all but the bottom most box of all the boxes that were stacked directly in front of the door. So all a person has to do now to get out the front door is step or climb over the one box. Before we used up all that particular soap, we couldn’t get out the front door at all.

But the joke is on the Joke Farm. Cause this Halloween, our trick is, we are fixing to deliver a life time’s supply of Babo to those parts. Ray is out looking for a van at this very nonce that is big enough to accommodate a life time supply of Babo.

Does a repetitive youthful exposure to Babo, shorten life? What about feet x-rays? What about snorting Boraxo or maybe Boraxo facials?

Yes. Wearied of his miserable blemishes the anonymous young man began to regularly wash his face with Boraxo. Yet the blemishes only got worse until eventually the young man’s face was a pulsing, pulpy sore similar to a bruised, oozing strawberry. Mercy!

But then a trial lawyer contacted the anonymous young man. Young man, your face is a mess. Yet you may be innocent enough to convince a jury of your peers that your face is not your fault. And that’s what happened. The young man got 10% of a huge settlement that would have entirely ruined Boraxo except for the tireless efforts made by Ronald Reagan that eventually saved Boraxo.

Yet Babo was not so fortunate. Babo is gone, but not forgotten. Fortunately, Babo, if sealed up, lasts for many moons. That’s why we still have ours. It never goes bad unless the tab gets pulled. Even then, it lasts a good while.

But what’s really on my mind today, Halloween Eve, known to the ancient Ulstermen as Samuin, is, How does an average amateur photographer like me, Crumby, take good pictures in rest rooms. Like, What should be my choice of camera gear?

Consider, the artificial lighting is apt to suck so the camera needs to have great white balance. Consider, the various nooks and crannies may be stygian, so the camera needs to shoot at high ISO . Consider, the action may be fast and furious so the camera needs to shoot fast and furious.

The best camera for all that may be a Canon EOS 5D. But the facility may be too cramped for a 5D. What then? What if you can’t maneuver your 5D in the tiny cramped facility? Well then you may need a fairly tiny backup camera that will at least allow you to get a crumby shot that you may later pass off as art

OK. Since Crumby only has two cameras, the camera he always takes into rest rooms, whether they be public or private, is the Olympus 5060WZ. That Olympus model is a smallish camera. Smallish yet inured by its magnesium alloy body to the corrupting fumes one is likely to encounter in restrooms. Yes. No matter how super your camera is at taking pictures, if it can’t stand up to fumes, what good is it in a rest room?

Lots of moths like to head for the CB Boy’s Rest Room. Hold it. Maybe there is nearly always at least one species or moth in the CB Boy's Room. Maybe they are drawn to the fumes. Anyway the list of documented moths in the CB Boy’s Refreshment Area grows long. This is one of those moths.

American Insects

Having obtained a plethora of fly, wasp and bee photographs, all of them showing CB denizens or visitors, Crumby faces the awesome task of identifying the depicted vermin to genus, at least. Naturally, Crumby would rather figure out what species they are, but given the current state of Hymenopteran and Dipteran systematics handy to a public person like Crumby, dwelling in a corner of our lttle planet dominated by igmos, that may be impossible.

Yet Crumby is no quitter. Well, Crumby is a quitter. But only after tons of aggravation have convinced Crumby to just quit. Crumby is not ready to quit on his bug pictures just yet.

No. First Crumby is fixing to check out the available literature. After that strategy probably belly flops, Crumby is fixing to go find someplace, like maybe a museum, where the museum responsible parties may allow Crumby to look at the specimens. Uh. Back when Crumby was more famous than he is now, responsible parties were generally happy to allow Crumby to nose around in their stuff.

You may espy that what Crumby would like to produce is a pictorial key to the flighted Diptera and Hymenoptera dwelling south on the near shores of the dammed river. That key would, of course, be useful to a broader area than the designated coverage area, since no other such document or similar document exists.

But getting back to American Insects. A library copy of American Insects is this very nonce reclining on Crumby’s desk. It is a heavy tome. Crumby’s first impression is, if you like moths and beetles, American Insects may be your daddy. If you like bees, wasps and flies, then you might be happier with A Field Guide to the Insects, the Borror and White much maligned yet slender and happy tome. That’s how measly the illustrations are in those twain chapters covering the bees, wasp and flies in American Insects. Plus, Crumby is fairly certain that the descriptions of typical species may be more useful outside the miserable ROT, than inside. Plus the dern book costs almost a hundred dollars or more. Mercy! Still, if you like beetles and moths.

Here is an example of what Crumby is up against. This bee is little and black with green eyes. This particular bee is under 5mm in length. If Crumby had a better picture of its wings, it might be doable to genus, maybe.

Bugs Suck

As everyone knows, Druids are not obliged by religion to forgive and forget, ever. The fact is, Druids hold grudges for eternity or until eternity ends, either officially or for the Druid. That’s why Druids ovate: Never forgive, never forget, always do pay back. Yepper. Some may be in for a nasty surprise many moons down the road because they crossed a Druid.

Perhaps the most painful insect attack Crumby ever experienced was carried out by a true bug. That bug was a Reduviidae, known to the ignorant and vulgar as an assassin bug. It attacked Crumby, sticking its cruel beak in the back of Crumby’s neck. At the very nonce of the attack, Crumby was busy fixing to insure that Americanoland would always have an abundance of oil. Yet, Crumby was attacked by that bug anyway. That’s what patriotism is good for. Getting bug bit.

Crumby killed that dern bug. But then, that bug almost killed Crumby too. Mercy. That hurt. Ever since that day, Crumby has hated bugs more than any other insects except maybe the mosquitoes on South Padre Island. Crumby hates those mosquitoes about equally with bugs.

Yet many bugs may be as innocent as the average Chamber of Commerce member. Or probably more innocent. That’s why Crumby, after lo, lo, lo, lo, many, many, many, many moons has at last relented on the topic of bugs. Now, these days, Crumby has decided to only totally exterminate the bug genus Triatoma. The one that bit Crumby was a Triatoma, a blood sucking conenose. Bloodsucking conenose is the common and vulgar name of the bug that viciously attacked Crumby while Crumby was fixing to do some hard work for the Americano economy. What a vicious animal or vermin the bloodsucking conenose obviously is. Imagine, attacking an innocent victim like Crumby when Crumby was already afflicted by ambivalence.

Anyhow, the Cow Barn has officially decided to start focusing on bugs to some extent. So here are a couple more Cow Barn bugs.

This one is even on the broomweed. At the CB we have one broomweed plant. That's right, one plant. This is part of that plant.

Ignorant Savages Get What They Deserve

Here’s Shelton Green of KVUE news explaining about the juniper versus cedar pollen.

“Cedar allergies usually peak in Austin in January. However the cooler temperatures across Texas lately has (have) prompted Juniper trees, a close relative of the Cedar, to pollinate. Much of that Juniper pollen has already made it to the Austin area several weeks ahead of schedule.”

Crumby prays. Good Goddess! When are you fixing to waft me away from these ignorant savages? Please, please, don’t let me die among these secesh numbskulls, here in the ROT.

The Manual of the Vascular Plants of Texas lists eight species of Juniperus for the Republic. Two of these junipers are sometimes designated by the common name, cedar. Regardless, all eight juniper species are probably locally referenced as cedars by many. All eight juniper species except maybe Alligator juniper were introduced into the Republic via the dung of stray Mexican cows. This great invasion of stray Mexican cows occurred during Governor Bush's first turn as ROT jefe. So it is no accident that President Bush, once he departed Austin to indulge in his long presidential vacation, had to spend so much time doing brush control on the ranch. The introduced juniper, given something like a twenty year head start, was by then fixing to take over the whole place.

The reason the junipers, also known by the white trash name, cedars, were taking over is because the Indians were needed in the privatized prisons. Because the Indians were locked up, nobody was left to burn the cedars except teenagers. Yet the inexperienced teenagers could not burn up the cedar because, uh, the cedar turned out to be a fire retardant type tree. Either that or the teenagers were retarded.

No wonder then that media persons like Shelton Green are confused about which is what. No wonder Shelton completely forgot about Juniperus virginiana, that the white trash name as red cedar. Yes. That red cedar, which happens to reference the favorite color of Communism, has possibly the worst juniper pollen of the three different juniper pollens that are likely to commonly assail nostrils in these parts.

Well actually, the other five, but leaving out Alligator juniper, which is sometimes known to various white trash and white trash sympathizers as crocodile cedar, may send some pollen our way. But those other ones are less important than the big three because they are littler. Still, we have seven junipers to worry about total, plus crocodile cedar.

There is no need for any socialized medicine in the great secesh Republico de Tejas. No need even though the toll taken by the cedar pollen combined with the juniper pollen plus the swine flu is terrible indeed. Horrible, horrible, horrible, terrible! Yet for a few dollars more, we hire on witch doctors, faith healers and exorcists. They keep the allergies and germs at bay. Yes. Allergies are no match for a faith based medical system. The fact is, the Tejas medico system would be perfect except for the trial lawyers and the stray Mexican cows.

Jesus Blesses a New Water Treatment Plant

Mercy! For twenty years these parts have needed more treated water. The fact is, these parts may have actually needed more treated water twenty years ago than now. But that depends on who you believe. Yet those that believe in Jesus don’t care who spread what propaganda around twenty years ago. No. Jesus has always pushed two main commandments: 1) Go forth and pave. 2) Build me a new water treatment plant.

Crawl on in here Booster Jesus. You can cozy up next to me. Hold it. Stop hogging the covers Booster Jesus. I am fixing to kick you out of here. There now. Get lost Booster Jesus. Go sleep under a bridge or out in the dang woods.

Yes. Sadly, some would welcome Jesus on into bed, then just as suddenly kick him out. That’s how Jesus feels about those who follow his commandment, Build me a new water treatment plant!, but who then simultaneously backslide into the water conservation heresy. Water conservation is the same difference as kicking Jesus out of your bed.

How come? Easy money, Jesus feels like he can provide all the water these parts shall ever need. So the water conservation heresy super hurts Jesus’ feelings. Advocating water conservation is the same as if you personally kicked Jesus out of your bed. Which is precisely what Councilwoman Shade has done. She has kicked Jesus out of her bed.

Mantras that Really Work!

There are three mantras that really work. The oldest of the three is Zuben Esch Genubi. Then along came Obie Wan Kenobi. And now we have Najibullah Zazi. Yes. For a mantra to actually work, it must have precisely six syllables.

Perhaps you are busy reliving most of the worst moments of your miserable life. There they go flashing your third eye, playing on and on, like a Jungle Jim film festival. How can you make it stop? Easy money, employ your trusty mantra. Say, Najibullah Zazi three fifties times and all those bad memories shall trouble no more. Your mantra can also be used to keep you from having new bad memories. Like any time you figure a bad situation is fixing to happen, just start reciting your mantra three fifties times. Najibullah Zazi.

Crumby Never Liked True Bugs, Ever

That’s because many of those bugs bite or stink. Some may bite and stink. Plus they eat up the greens. On the other hand, Crumby is always on the lookout for new plants that might compliment the extant CB flora. One such that would be a new plant for the CB is Euphorbia marginata, which grows handy to the CB but has never appeared at the CB. Obviously Crumby could wait forever for Euphorbia marginata to colonize the CB. Or, Crumby could take action, eventually fixing to actually introduce it himself.

But Crumby has learned the hard way that plants are not equally pleasing or cool to have around. Some plants are ecologically inert. Some crowd out all the other plants. Some cause stings, burns or rashes when handled or brushed against. Some wield stickers or sharp spines. Yes. There is much to consider about this or that plant. That’s why Crumby is carefully considering Euphorbia marginata from its bad side as well as its good side.

One important consideration is, What insects are liable to habitate on Euphorbia marginata? To find out, Crumby actually forsook the relative safety of the CB. Off Crumby went. West was his direction. Anon Crumby came upon a good many of the subject flora. Yet most of the subject flora had bugs. At first, Crumby thought the bugs might be giant ants. But no. Closer inspection showed they were bugs, baby bugs, that are also known as instars, nymphs, tot vermin.

The fact is, Crumby observed the subject plants for quite a while and the bugs were really the most overwhelming insect presence on the subject plants. So now, Crumby needs to decide if he wants even more nasty bugs at the CB than already live here.

And another thing, Crumby does not for sure know what kind of bugs these are. They may be Hyalymenus tarsatus, but maybe not. Plus, Crumby doesn’t know what they do. They seem to just sit around on Euphorbia marginata. But that could be a ruse. Maybe they are on their best behavior when people are watching. Maybe when the people turn away, those bugs get up to incredible high jinks. Who knows?

Scientific Names Even a Dumbass Should Know

Hey! You may be twice as stupid as a cow. But even so, you may know a scientific name, or two. Like many know the scientific name for most of the human species. Correct. It’s Homo sapiens. That’s one scientific name, many may know.

OK. What are some other scientific names everyone may know. How about these, Rattus rattus and Mus musculus, two of humanities oldest and most loved symbionts. Yes. Almost everyone can name those popular rodents.

How about Dasypus nomvemcinctus and Procyon lotor? I bet you know those. Or Turdus migratorius. I bet you know that.

Here’s one everyone knows? It’s humanities oldest insect friend, Apis mellifera.

So there they are, seven scientific names anyone can drop, anywhere. Want to seem intelligent, drop a scientific name or two. You might get laid.

The Heartbreak of Pigweed Allergy

First off, as almost everyone knows, if you have identical twins, and one of those twins has allergies, then the allergy free twin or sibling is in every way superior to the sickly twin or sibling. That’s just a fact of life. The allergy free twin shall be smarter, better looking, have superior sex organs, everything. That’s how debilitating allergies are.

Yet what has modern medicine done to combat allergies. Well, not much. But modern medicine does identify pigweed pollen as a source of allergies. Yes. Perhaps the dopiest list of plants in the whole world is the list of plants that the Austink medical community puts about as the bad pollen producers plant list. Everybody needs to get tested for the pollen those plants produce if everyone, including allergy sufferers, is to survive in these parts. Yes. The same list that includes mountain cedar also includes pigweed.

I wonder how many know just how rare pigweed is? I mean pigweed is not in the same category of rarity as tiny bug bottoms, but pretty dang rare nonetheless. Pigweed is in fact so rare that many more people have been tested for pigweed allergy than could identify a pigweed by themselves for a hundred dollars. Many could go all their lives and never knowingly espy a pigweed. Many could go all their lives and never espy a pigweed, knowingly or not.

Nevertheless, a Druid Ovate like Crumby is liable to know just about everything including where to find pigweed. As a public service, here is provided a photograph of a pigweed community. Characteristically, this pigweed is surrounded by farm machinery.

Here is another photograph, a closeup of a pigweed flower spike, Amaranthus hybridus. Yes. The family name in Latin for pigweed is Amaranthaceae. So when you go get tested to see if you are allergic to pigweed, be sure to show your doctor these photographs and be sure to demand exposure to pollen from a genuine local Amaranthus like Amaranthus hybridus. If you don’t stick up for yourself, who will?

In Crumby’s Dream, He is an Accused Terrorist

Boy howdy! About 9PM yesterday evening I was afflicted with stomach cramps. Those cramps are always a bad omen or ovation when it comes to the upcoming dreams for that night. Last night provided more evidence for the correctness of that hypothesis.

OK. First thing Crumby notices he’s handcuffed, hands behind his back. There he is in this courthouse hallway like environment, handcuffed. But the environment is more like art than reality. That’s mostly because Crumby is sat down on this bench in the hall, but the seat next to Crumby is a commode overflowing with doodoo and soggy tp.

So then a fellow in a suit and tie and nice slick hair is standing in front of Crumby. How would you like to have your head shoved in the toilet, Comrade Ovate? But before Crumby can answer, negatively, Crumby’s interrogator sticks his own hand in the toilet, then slaps Crumby with that same hand, ultimately wiping his hand all over Crumby’s noggin. See. Dreams are like art.

Next thing Crumby is suddenly in a conference room seated at a big rectangular shaped table. Crumby is still handcuffed with doodoo and wet tp smeared on his noggin. Several other people are present, at least four, including Crumby’s original tormentor. All are well dressed. At least one of them is a lady, dressed in a navy blue, pants suit and seated directly across from Crumby.

Someone says, Do you know Mr. Ovate that these days we cut off the left feet of terror suspects? We have found that the loss of the left foot prevents potential terrorists from participating in the terrorist lifestyle.

Crumby is sitting there, handcuffed, helpless, with shit and tp all over his noggin, trying to figure out if cutting the left foot off a potential terrorist makes sense, when Crumby notices that the lady seated across from him is masturbating. Not only is the lady masturbating, she is not being the least little bit discreet either. Her posture is hunched. She moans loudly. She is vibrating.

Crumby is shocked that everyone else in the room seems to think the lady’s behavior is normal.

Then Crumby wakes up. Dreams are like art.

The Shoofly, Dance Fly, One More Thing

Assuming these are the same species, then, one is probably male and one is probably female. That's what I figure. But which is dang which? Well, I need to find out how to sex these particular flies. Matter of fact, keeping these flies as pets, I need to dern sure know what sex they are.

Later. OK. I have figured these fuckers out. The one on the right is the female. That makes the one on the left the, uh, boy. Turns out ncsu.edu has come to the rescue of the ignorant. The fact is, these dance flies may be genus Rhamphomyia. Still not even close to a species call. But hey, this is the Republic of Tejas.

The Ubiquitous Snout is Back

Many Austinkites may wonder what butterflies they are running down with their great vehicles. Those butterflies cloggng the roadways are snouts. Or, for the chauvinistic, American Snout. The snouts are everywhere south of the dammed river, kazillions of them. Please drive carefully.

This snout decided to enjoy the Solidago canadensis that some reference also as Solidago altissima. Praise the Goddess, there is plenty of goldenrod at the CB.

These maybe dance flies or shooflys or whatever they are, like it too. The fact is, at the nonce this picture was taken these not so famous flies are the most common insects at the CB.

Finally, for anyone who has pondered, Which fly might make a good pet? Well, this one, Villa sp. would make a good pet. The fact is, this bee fly will sit on your finger. It does not mind getting poked. It is practically tame.

Mercy. So much is happening in terms of insects. Those dern milkweed caterpillars totally ate the CB Asclepias oenotherioides they were on. I mean, like it's totally gone just like those yellow aphid vermin. Gone! Well, not all of it. All the action was on flowering specimens. Two strictly leafy specimens were not attacked, eaten.

Is this fly famous? Empididae

Dance flies of the family Empididae have escaped Crumby so far. But now, after a little help, those dance flies have come under the scrutiny of the Junior Ovate. However, dance flies are apparently not well known from these parts. That may be because gentlemen in Tejas would never construct a balloon from frothy anal secretions to attract females. Or maybe they would, and like much else, never thought of that solution.

Yes. I have designed this balloon just for you dear. Look inside. Inside the frothy anal secretions of my balloon are prizes. Those prizes include a ring plus an economy SUV. And you my dear may obtain those prizes just by agreeing to have sexual intercourse avec moi.

I don't know if this Empidinae constructs balloons. The fact is, given the available scanty information, Crumby can not determine its genus, yet.

Speculation - Yellow Aphids Disappear Over Night

All righty. What has happened to the yellow aphids? Right before this latest cool spell blew in, the yellow aphids were all over the Cynanchum unifarium and the Asclepias oenotherioides. Now those aphids have disappeared. Where'd they go?

We are not talking like just a few yellow aphids either. There were a tousand or maybe two tousand just on the Cynanchum. Then, next day, poof, gone.

Now maybe with the high traffic one sees on the Asclepias, those yellow aphids could have been pushed off by the larger herbivores. Maybe the beetles ate them. But no such large herbivores or beetles visited the Cynanchum. Which quite frankly, pisses me off. Why don't those caterpillars and beetles visit the Cynanchum?

The Asclepias oenotherioides is having a good year in these parts. Some of them actually didn't get mowed and have been producing seed pods. The reason they didn't get mowed is because the grass didn't grow. No the grass didn't grow and the mowers didn't mow. Tra-la. So the milkweeds were spared. Naturally I have been able to collect some seed.

Earlier I also did up some seed flats of Asclepias asperula. They germinated all righty but then most of the seedlings died right between cotyledon and two leaf stage. I don't know why. But after about six weeks in 50s only about six are still alive. Even so, those survivors are poorly or stunted. So I need some more seed to experiment with. Somebody needs to get me some more seed.

Here's something missing from the landscape, Agalinis heterophylla. Normally, this agalinis is the most common fall Scrophulariaceae. The Cow Barn always had plenty. But not now. Where'd it go? What shall the poor little bees that relied on the agalinis do now? Mercy!

Homops and Hemips

Among humans there is great cultural strife between the homos and hemen. The same is true among the bugs. Only among the bugs, the culture war is between the homops and hemips. Mercy! There is no peaceable kingdom anywhere on this tiny planet. For the homops and hemips are everywhere, each afflicting the other with every conceivable wickedness. No peace, anywhere! No peace!

Even tiny wasps that you might think would be oblivious to the great culture war are, instead, made so nervous that they have been given the family name, Figitidae. That’s right, the constant strife occurring all around these tiny wasps has made them so nervous and stressed out, they fidget all the time. Thus the family name. The worst afflicted of the family Figitidae are the members of the subfamily Figitinae. These figits are the most nervous organisms known to modern science.

OK. Many may recall the scepticism of the Druids regarding Asclepias oenotherioides as a host plant for queens and monarchs. OK. Now the Cow Barn Druids have proof. Look what Rayetta found today. It’s like a queen caterpillar and a monarch caterpillar on the same dern Asclepias oenotherioides. Why my goodness! We were all just plumb fucked naked metaphorically by such a phenomena.

Monarch so the other one with the maroon is the queen.

And for those especially ignorant Americanos who don't really believe two species of milkweed caterpillars would cohabit on the same plant, here's that.

All righty. The Cow Barn is now happy with our macro photography capability. Short of professional equipment, we now have what it takes. So we officially recommend this combo: Olympus 35mm macro for the inert, Sigma 150mm macro for the small and mobile, and the Olympus 70-300mm for the bigger and easily spooked. Yes. An average amateur naturalist needs the equivalent of all three of these devices, plus a microscope and a camera to couple up with it.

Weep for Homoptera

Yes. Homoptera has been needlessly subsumed into Hemiptera. How awful is that? Mercy! Crumby had just gotten over Compositae getting the new nomenclature, Asteraceae. Now this. Why, why, oh why? Progress shall never falter. Alas!

Lately, since the rain in September, a great many dragonflies have been busy at the Cow Barn. This is what they do. Those dragonflies swarm on the north side of the pecan orchard within a few feet of the foliage and high up, like maybe 20 feet in the air. They have been at it almost every day, morning and/or afternoon. Three species are implicated. These are wandering glider, black saddlebags and green darner. Huh-huh. I have taught myself to sight id a great many dragonflies, especially the super common ones.

Naturally, many have speculated as to the draw, drawing the dragonflies. If it is flying prey items, then those tidbits are too tiny for me to espy. Nevertheless, some tiny bugs may be hatching out on the pecan foliage only to be gobbled up by dragonflies.

Then maybe two days ago a mob of tiny vermin descended on the window glass of the back door. What’s this? What are these vermin? Because the vermin we are now discussing are tiny, Crumby instinctively knew that most of their many secrets would never be revealed to naked eyes. Knowing all that Crumby callously brushed a great many of the miserable bugs into a jar. I shall look at you bugs under the microscope as soon as I get home from work, Crumby allowed.

Later Crumby happily freed some of his tiny captives. Out you go, tiny vermin. Most of the vermin flew off but three or four sort of stuck to the paper towel under the microscope. These may be dead. But they haven’t been dead long. Crumby watched the possibly deceased vermin awhile. Crumby took pictures.

Hmm. These here are Homopterans, Crumby reckoned. I shall now do research on these possible Homopterans. That’s when Crumby found out the Homops are no more. Mercy! No. Now the former Homops are Hemips. It’s just like when the botanical authorities lumped Bouteloua hirsuta and Bouteloua pectinata, Crumby remembered. Yes. I could tell those apart easily just like I could tell a Homop from a Hemip.

Once more Crumby reviewed the evidence, gathered up over his miserable lifetime. Yes. That evidence indicated a conspiracy. All these fuckers are in cahoots, fixing to mess me up. They all hate me. Yes. They hate me and they don’t want me to know anything. That’s why they have made taxonomy into a shell game.

Eventually, and in spite of the conspiracy, Crumby decided the tiny vermin are probably aphids. But why are those aphids on the window, still? Does sitting on the window keep them safe? Where are they supposed to be? Goodness gracious sakes alive!

Dream, Dream, Dream

Dreams may be daily life converted into art. Yes. Life as we know it may be taken by our noggins and converted into art as we sleep. That’s why many dream in technicolor.

Like a person who spends most of the day watching bugs shall also dream of those bugs at night. But the bugs of those nocturnal visions of the third eye that only becomes active when one’s noggin is closely appressed to the Ample Bosoms, may be strangely altered from their diurnal counterparts of the wide-awake world or tiny planet that we know so well.

Yes. There is a part of the brain that is totally devoted to turning the mundane bullshit of regular life into art. That’s why, no matter how weird the bugs look or behave, how those same bugs look or behave in dreams shall be amplified in every aspect. Not just the bugs themselves either. No. Even information only distally related to the bugs shall become bizarre or like art.

Like for example, last night Crumby dreamed about a place where an average amateur entomologist could go to get all his bugs identified. Like this place advertised that any average amateur entomologist of average or better intelligence could easily work through a simple enough process for getting all his or her unknown bug(s) identified.

In his dream, Crumby was overjoyed. Crumby sought out his bosom companion, Ray Pistrum. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Crumby exclaimed excitedly. Guess what. There’s now a place we can go to get our bugs identified. You want to go with me to get our bugs identified.

Nay Crumby. But you should go and see how it works out.

So Crumby set out all alone. For a wonder, his journey was swift or instantaneous. Within nanoseconds of his arrival at the Institution for Bug Identification (IBI), Crumby easily identified all the bugs that had only recently puzzled him. Crumby was so happy.

But alas, when Crumby awoke, he recalled the dream but none of the actual bug identities. So in fact, you only get to remember the bug identities you learn at IBI, while you are asleep.

A really swell person of greater than average intelligence or some ability, though, might recall everything that transpired in his or her dream including the bug identities. Then that person could choose a medium and produce a faithful accounting of that dream in or on that medium. Yes. That would be art, like maybe a painting that featured all the bug identities. Except, since all the featured bugs would be identified on the painting, it would be more like poster art.

Yes. Poster art. Just imagine that like the adjacent featured a great many more bugs and all of those bugs would be labeled totally from information acquired exclusively at IBI. Now that would be art, not just an Apis wing shot.

Lady Bug

Many moons ago, like back in the early days of life on earth, I was fixing to take pictures of lady bugs. And I did. I took plenty of lady bug pictures. Then, quick as I took them, I deleted those pictures because inevitably, the lady bugs depicted were always totally, or more usually, partly, out of focus. Sure, I could have maybe kept those pictures, attempting to pass them off as art, but those pictures annoyed me too much even to pass off as art. So they got deleted. Dern out of focus lady bugs.

It’s true. For me, lady bugs have not been kindly or photogenic. They never sat still and they never seemed to want any of the aphids I gave them. Total non-cooperation.

Yet eventually I may have figured out the craft of lady bug photography. Lady bugs require a very high shutter speed and a correspondingly very high F stop to deal with their endless faunching and a body shape that features great depth relative to the other two dimensions which you may know as length and width.

Not inappropriately, my first acceptable lady bug picture depicts a member of the genus Harmonia, possibly Harmonia axyridis, the introduced Asian multicolored lady bug. Notice, there are no aphids in the picture?

Introduced insects are usually a bad idea which is why the Agriculture Department is keen on making sure all the insects from everywhere else eventually wind up in these parts. This one reportedly smells bad and bites.

Is this fly famous?

Well now. The story on this fly is, it's about 4mm long. It is a very nervous or active fly. As may be espied, its tibiae and tarsi are remarkably hairy. It has a very long proboscis. It's head is all eyes. At this nonce a great many, maybe a tousand or two tousand of these flies are infesting the Verbesina virginica. This fly deserves fame.

Bombyliidae maybe?

Sunday Morning after Band Day

The drumming has stopped, temporarily. Yes. The infernal drumming shall start anew Monday and or Tuesday night. But for the nonce it is stopped. Mercy! Yes. Now that I can hear myself think, it is time for reflection. Yes. Ten straight hours or more of infernal drumming always reminds Crumby that the Great Global Titration may be nigh. Yepper. Eventually, post Great Global Titration, the quiet and the dark of the night shall return even unto these noisiest and most polluted of parts. Trouble is, Crumby won’t be around to enjoy the quiet or the dark of the night. No he won’t. That’s why Crumby needs to do something. Just do something, Crumby! Do something positive.

But Crumby wonders. Can I, Crumby, now that I am old and feeble, plus frail, do much of anything, much less something positive? Unlikely. Hmm. Maybe like those things, what do you call them, that like go over your ears, maybe I could purchase a set of those? Maybe they have improved them to make them totally impervious to incessant drumming? No. No. No. Don’t be ridiculous. You shall still feel the vibrations Crumby. Yes. Those vibrations would still afflict your pitiful old bones, titillate your femurs, travel up your spine to your noggin bones, setting those noggin bones to vibrating.

No Crumby. What you need to try first is migration. Yes. Migration. Migration is the only rational solution. Remember Crumby. Focus on migration. Terror is an irrational solution. Terror is only effective as a function of state power. Like for example, the only solution to white terror is red terror. Or, Shock and Awe!!!!! Mercy!

Praise the Goddess! When the Druids were in charge, every day was like a semi-Sunday. That’s correct. Nobody did much work ever, but only a little work now and then. But when the Christians took over, everybody except white property owners had to work super hard most of the time. But then along came like Pope What’s His Name, uh, Pope Martin Luther maybe, and he says, OK, you miserable workers and peasants and slaves can have Sundays off. Plus, on those specified Sundays you need to be quiet except when you are making joyful noises. Yet all those joyful noises need to occur mostly inside buildings so that those buildings shall help to deaden your racket. That way, with most of your racket deadened, you won’t disturb the actually contemplative.

Yes. The older I get, the more I appreciate the wisdom of putting all the Christians inside big, fairly sound proof buildings on Sundays. Yes. Inside those edifices or structures the noise is constrained, afflicting only the high heavens, maybe. Otherwise, on Sunday, they would all be over here, hooting, whooping and banging on drums at the Burger Center.

Band Day Again, Mercy!

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Yes. Today is Band Day at the Burger Center. Yes. Band Day is that important secular holiday when many of Austinks young retards show up for drum banging. Good Goddess! What an assault on the ears it is. Why are the drums always slightly out of step with the rest of the noise makers? Mercy!

Well the new double pane windows installed at the CB help poquito. What would help more? Easy money, a friendly fire air strike employing tousand or two tousand pound bombs. Ooops!

The Great Global Titration (Are you ready?)

Zizotes has reminded many of the upcoming great global titration. What color will the air turn just before George Will gasps his last miserable breath? Many vote for pink.

Why pink? Well, pink is a common indicator color. Could be blue though. Or even, and this is an outside shot, chartreuse.

Sadly, ultimately, the fate of humanity is identical to a bacterium that overstayed its welcome in the petri dish, having consumed all the agar. And that’s the whole point of the great titration. The great titration is specified by the end Ovation. Druids believe that just prior to the global extermination of humanity, the atmosphere shall undergo a color change detectable to the keenly observant. Course knowing all that, plus observing the change, won’t do the Druids much good. But hey, being right never did anybody any good.

The Great Global Titration

Ere ye ready fer the great global titration
When yer gutty wuts explode into the sky
Will ye puke er will ye poot as the heat expands yer shoot (chute)
Ere ye ready fer the great global titration

Shall our Kinglet be ready fer the great global titration
When those poisonous fumes come rolling bye (buy, buy)
Shall he do some more hard work, shall he shirk, shall he smirk
Shall he be ready fer the great global titration*

Shall ye be ready when the great titrations handy
ye'll need crackers, silver tape plus wottled boter
Yepper ye'll need all of those plus a clothespin fer yer nose
Shall ye be ready when the great titrations handy

Ere ye ready fer the coming great titration
there is scanty oxygen to breathe
Ye shall fall upon yer knees as yer snotty nostrils wheeze
Ere ye ready fer the coming great titration

*This verse was penned when Bushnoid the second was Kinglet. Now, a new Kinglet is up there in the White Palace. The new Kinglet is sympathetic to Republicans. He tries to like them, to visit with them, to be around them. Whoa! No Druid would do any of that. Those Republicans are disgusting. Well, at least Obama's comparing himself to Jesus.

Zizotes Juju Bwana!!!!

Long have the Druids been of the opinion that nobody living knows what zizotes, as in hierba de zizotes, is. No. When it comes to zizotes, all the mere mortals go around merely spouting off. Yes they do. It’s zizotes this and zizotes that. But ask one of them, Hey dumbass, what’s zizotes?, and they get a confused expression on their bovine countenances typical of your average dumbass. That’s because nobody knows what zizotes is.

The reason Crumby is bringing up zizotes again is because a visually pleasing long horned beetle is all over the Asclepias oenotherioides in these parts at this nonce. So maybe a zizote is a long horned beetle. Who knows? But probably not.

Anyway, this beetle may be Tetraopes femoratus because it obviously has reddish femurs. Or probably not. Maybe zizotes means reddish femurs in the long lost language of some malodorous tribe of semi-noble savages that worshiped these particular beetles long ago. Who knows?

In any event, the important point is, this beetle here depicted is associated with Asclepias oenotherioides. Since this particular beetle is supposed to be host specific, and none of these beetles have been declared exclusively for A.oenotherioides, I do declare that this beetle is Tetraopes crumbianus ssp. zizotes.

But getting even more serious, is hierba de zizotes native to these parts. Course not. How could it be? Since nobody knows what zizotes is, obviously zizotes is an extraterrestrial term, or at least, like Honduran. How do you know that the Honduran cheap labor or maybe space aliens didn't introduce hierba de zizotes to these parts via their long pants cuffs? Right. You don't know that or shit. It's cuffs that are sometimes on the bottom of pants? Right.

If hierba de zizotes is an introduced alien plant, what plants are native to these parts? Well now, there are twain native plants that arrived in these parts at about the same time as the native white people. These plants are tall grass and short grass. Sometimes the tall grass is referenced as jonson or johnsongrass. The short grass is called, coastal. That's it, the natives.

And while we are on the topic, Asclepias oenotherioides, it has at last come to Crumby's attention that Simon says, or rumor has it, that zizotes references the skin sores a person may get from handling the hierba. OK. And from the same source, hierba de zizotes is a documented host for monarch butterflies.

Hmmm. I hope so. I would like to find some monarch caterpillars, or maybe queens on my hierba de zizotes. Dern. Seems like I would have already noticed that.

The merlin is still around

Crumby never thought that he would get to add merlin to the CB bird list. But today, just now, while perambulating or waddling out in the backyard, the Goddess says, Look up Crumby. Look up or merit a kick in the nuts. Crumby looked up immediately. There, overhead was a great flock of dumbasses. Yes. Overhead were birds so stupid they could easily be reincarnated as human Republicans. There were great tailed grackles. There were starlings. There were crows. Crows! What the heck are crows still doing around these parts? Anon a merlin split the swirling formation, blue jays in its wake. Then, quick as lightning, merlin was vanished. Fuck me naked, Crumby surmised. I wish I could do that. Someday, maybe.

Why are all these big ass stupid black birds so panicked by a tiny falcon? When Crumby first looked up, Crumby anticipated at least a peregrine. Nope. The same merlin spooked them all. Mercy.

It’s been a big day for Crumby. Earlier, Crumby espied this wasp. Turns out, this wasp may be Euodynerus crypticus.

Hello! This is Crumby. If I could look like a wasp, I would desire to look like this one. Only bigger.