Today is Memorial Day, not only a day to remember those who served our nation, but also the unofficial start of summer. Once Upon a Time that meant it was now permissible to wear white, although here in South Blogistan that custom has long since gone the way of the single-pilot mosquito.
I’m sure you have mosquitoes where you live. I’m sure you think they’re large. Perhaps they even carry away pets and small children who make the mistake of staying outside after dusk. But do your mosquitoes have co-pilots and file flight plans with the FAA?
I thought not.
You see, we South Blogistanis have the corner on summer. Oh sure, it gets hot elsewhere, but here summer is the time to sharpen up the chain saw, so you can cut off a chunk of air and chew it. We use electric chain saws here at the BPI campus so as not to further despoil the air, nor add to the din as the mosquitoes start their engines. If you thought the start of yesterday’s Indy 500 was loud, you haven’t heard the start of the South Blogistan 5,000,000,000. And that’s just the mosquitoes who filled out census forms.
Contrary to a popular myth, it’s only half true that only male mosquitoes make noise while only the female mosquitoes bite. That implied that if you could hear a mosquito buzzing, it was not a mosquito that could bite you. Some took comfort in that, though I always wondered why it was comforting to think that if you didn’t hear any mosquito at all, there might be a hungry female waiting to pounce. Zen-like riddles aside, it’s true that only female mosquitoes bite. But it’s not true that only male mosquitoes buzz. In fact male and female mosquitoes buzz in harmony. That may be a mating ritual, or it may be that he and his co-pilot are vectoring her and her co-pilot to that vein in your arm.
Aside from the mosquitoes, we South Blogistanis also have their descendants who gave up on flying – the in-flight movies were awful back then – and evolved into alligators. Not needing to fly allowed them to get much bigger. Neither male nor female alligators buzz, and either can and will bite. So if you hear a buzzing, it’s not an alligator. But if you don’t….
Still, it would be a mistake to imply that summer in South Blogistan is only about mosquitoes-with-copilots and alligators and air you can cut with a chain saw. There are also hurricanes and tropical storms and (not tropical, They insist) thunderstorms with the attendant lightning and street flooding (mostly from perspiration) and hours spent watching as breathless weatherfolk narrow the Cone of Uncertainty to the Arrow of Doom and resultant trips to the local home improvement store.
But you won’t hear us South Blogistanis complain about it … until October, when the rest of you are breaking out the sweaters and knit caps and we still have the mosquitoes-with-copilots and alligators and air you can cut with a chain saw and hurricanes and tropical storms and (not tropical, They insist) thunderstorms with the attendant lightning and street flooding (mostly from perspiration) and hours spent watching as breathless weatherfolk narrow the Cone of Uncertainty to the Arrow of Doom and resultant trips to the local home improvement store.
We’re used to it. Really. Dammit.