Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Can’t speak for you, but I’m convinced these fuckers are intelligent.
Every year, somewhere close to the Vernal Equinox it starts. They come out and start pushing the envelope. In wasp-language, they submit the proposition, signed sealed & delivered, that our balcony actually belongs to them.
We courteously submit a rebuttal, in wasp-language.
And so beginning on the Paschal Full Moon or thereabouts, I begin my sentry duties outside. Laptop, beer bottle, Wasp & Hornet Spray. Try not to go mixing ’em up.
And then laptop, empty beer bottle, full beer bottle, spray. Laptop, two empty beer bottles, beer bottle, spray. Now we’re at laptop, empty beer bottle, empty beer bottle, empty beer bottle, empty beer bottle, beer bottle, spray. Try not to mix ’em up.
Now here is the spooky part: Following Mother’s Day, or even Easter, there isn’t any spraying going on. It isn’t necessary. Wasps, I’m convinced — and I don’t give a shit what the entomologists have to say about this, okay? — understand the human-like concept of a “property line.” I am stalwart in this belief because I see it happen. They bob & weave the way they do, lazily to & fro…they sort of wander right up to where our negotiations concluded, and they wander right back again. I could measure it down to the fraction of the inch. And you know what? It works this way well past Labor Day, until there are Halloween decorations in the drugstores. At which time they disappear. Lay their eggs, and then salmon-like, go off and die?
It does seem to me that the negotiations need to be resumed the following year. Not possessing an encyclopedic knowledge of insect hibernation/reproduction rituals, I assume I am addressing a new generation. But even if that be the case, it seems to me there are genetic artifacts of what was negotiated the season previous. It’s as if momma wasp and daddy wasp told ’em, “don’t fuck with that guy with the can up there, he’s an asshole” and they listened somewhat.
The theories presented here, I have an opportunity to subject to a vigorous test. A tree is engulfing our balcony. It is deciduous, its pitch flows outward to the farthest leaves on the farthest branches. The wasps love it. But once those lines are negotiated in the springtime, they remain in full force throughout the entire year, and razor sharp.
No further negotiation necessary. Wasps is smart.
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