I have realized I had not been scared of cockroaches; I don’t even hate them, I suppose. And I guess I love them? I’ll just opt to answer, “not impossible.”
It’s fun to observe a roach running circles, to have a worm’s eye view of its kamikaze moves across the air, and to get dazed by its sudden landing on places you think it won’t care to go after disturbing their flight. Talk about vitality.
But after being amazed and amused by a roach’s athleticism, I almost always make it a point to start killing the creature. Kicks and stomps, or newspaper swipes, or broom jobs, or all other acts of cruelty and violence... anything lethal will do! Yet, according to some experts, nuclear bomb won’t work against it. So I always stick to the same old slapstick procedures enumerated above. Eco-friendly is in anyway.
But why try killing the performer? Of course, to witness the best of its performance.
Many times the greatest deed of a hero comes up in the time of his greatest struggle. Many times the greatest struggle is his struggle for life. Many times this instinct of self-preservations is that which makes one a hero. Even an ordinary soldier who is at a special time when, and in a special place where, he is likely to sustain battle scars, is more likely thereafter to receive medal of whatever honor than his brave, suicidal, and unscathed counterparts are.
Among all performers worthy of being terminated, the roach is the most spellbinding. When you thought all along that it lied there, head crushed, thorax and abdomen smashed, legs bruised or dislocated, wings severed, slime squashed out, and strength drained, never to walk again on the surface of the earth, never to wade again through the water in the pail, never to flip, flick, and dance again on your sink, there it is, slowly but surely, flexing and strutting its limbs, nervously “returnovering” its frame, stealthily shifting for a spin, and then walking like a hermit toward shelter, as if nothing serious happened after at most a day lying dead as death itself, as if telling its assassin “you can do better than that”. Wondrous! I am not worthy! Talk about resurrection and immortality.
Believe me, more practice makes more perfect. I just witnessed again one yesterday. A well-nourished and well-equipped specimen could leave you awestruck, once in a while.
Couldn’t we learn from some life force other than ants & butterflies, birds & bees, LeBron James & Ylmaz Bektas, and Paris Hilton and Ex-Senators Tito & Tessie?
The answer might just be crawling beneath your table.
It’s fun to observe a roach running circles, to have a worm’s eye view of its kamikaze moves across the air, and to get dazed by its sudden landing on places you think it won’t care to go after disturbing their flight. Talk about vitality.
But after being amazed and amused by a roach’s athleticism, I almost always make it a point to start killing the creature. Kicks and stomps, or newspaper swipes, or broom jobs, or all other acts of cruelty and violence... anything lethal will do! Yet, according to some experts, nuclear bomb won’t work against it. So I always stick to the same old slapstick procedures enumerated above. Eco-friendly is in anyway.
But why try killing the performer? Of course, to witness the best of its performance.
Many times the greatest deed of a hero comes up in the time of his greatest struggle. Many times the greatest struggle is his struggle for life. Many times this instinct of self-preservations is that which makes one a hero. Even an ordinary soldier who is at a special time when, and in a special place where, he is likely to sustain battle scars, is more likely thereafter to receive medal of whatever honor than his brave, suicidal, and unscathed counterparts are.
Among all performers worthy of being terminated, the roach is the most spellbinding. When you thought all along that it lied there, head crushed, thorax and abdomen smashed, legs bruised or dislocated, wings severed, slime squashed out, and strength drained, never to walk again on the surface of the earth, never to wade again through the water in the pail, never to flip, flick, and dance again on your sink, there it is, slowly but surely, flexing and strutting its limbs, nervously “returnovering” its frame, stealthily shifting for a spin, and then walking like a hermit toward shelter, as if nothing serious happened after at most a day lying dead as death itself, as if telling its assassin “you can do better than that”. Wondrous! I am not worthy! Talk about resurrection and immortality.
Believe me, more practice makes more perfect. I just witnessed again one yesterday. A well-nourished and well-equipped specimen could leave you awestruck, once in a while.
Couldn’t we learn from some life force other than ants & butterflies, birds & bees, LeBron James & Ylmaz Bektas, and Paris Hilton and Ex-Senators Tito & Tessie?
The answer might just be crawling beneath your table.
2 comments:
that claim that nuclear bomb won't work against roaches is false
note that roaches, like most insects, are vulnerable to radiation when molting i.e. when cells are dividing.
this is the same reason why, in treating cancer using radiation, the number of cancer cells killed is more than the number of normal cells because cancer cells divide more frequently.
exposing roaches to constant radiation will thus kill 'em all
and so may blog ka na pala :)
at ang lalim pa ha?
will link you up
Hello Botits!
Thanks for reading and replying.
Of course, it's an exaggeration when I told that ...nuclear bomb won't work. Obviously, even a triangle explosion could kill one.
As to radiation issue, yes, it is highly questionable, if not true.
I have not really read anything of that claim; it's just that I've heard the claim from experts, like aldrin and jerry dah.
Thanks for the information Botits. It would be a help for my future entry concerning the possible condition of a soul when the host is under radiation treatment, hahaha. I'd try to.
Oo, sawa na ko sa adult sites e.
Just trying to, too.
I'll link you too my friend!!!
Regards
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