I can’t help but think right now some stink bug dad is telling his stink bug daughter she is beautiful and can grow up to be anything she wants to be.
And it breaks my heart to know the stink bug daughter is wailing in despair, “But, dad, I’m a stink bug and a stink bug is all I’ll ever be!”
It saddens me whenever the world imposes pre-conceived notions on any of God’s creatures simply for the way they were born.
I’m so liberal even stink bug bias offends me.
Man, do stink bugs have it tough.
Talk about having the decks stacked against you. Being called “Stinky” is one of the worst things that can happen to a kid. How would you like it if your entire race was referred to with that loathsome pejorative?
Even third world leaders would be loath to welcome the stink bug president into his or her office for a friendly meet ‘n’ greet.
I can only guess stink bugs were created so even the lowly dung beetle can sometimes feel a necessary surge of self-esteem to help it endure its universally grim 36-month life span spent rolling balls of dung across arid cow pastures
Dung Beetle: “Oh, woe, is me! I spend my entire day balling nutrient-rich dung to feed a family whose breath is so foul we never dare kiss or show affection. Oh, well. Least I ain’t no damn stink bug!”
I think most of the world’s wars were started by people who are determined to compensate for some slight that led to low self-esteem.
I vow that’s not going to happen with my precious loved ones. Not on my watch.
I may be failing at providing much in the way of material goods for my two daughters, ages 10 and 4, but, by God, these girls will know they are loved, they will know they are smart and they will know they are beautiful.
They will know all this because their Daddy made it a point to tell them so each and every day.
My fear is at some point they will one day read this and know their Daddy is an idiot because he spent a lot of time writing about things like the feelings of stink bugs instead of seeking a pay check.
I’ve seen scores of people on the news complaining bitterly about stink bug infestations. Some say that when squashed they emit a skunk-like smell. Others compare the odor to that of rancid old sneakers.
It’s a smell I cannot describe because I’ve never squashed a single stink bug and I never will.
Unlike so many of my discriminating brethren, I’m perfectly at peace with the stink bug.
In fact, I admire that, unlike blood-sucking bedbugs, the stink bug does nothing untoward to humans until we extinguish them. Then, like a foul soul ascending to stink bug heaven, the smell begins to rise.
To avoid that eventuality, experts advise homeowners to seize the stink bug and flush it down the toilet -- a not unreasonable place to dispose of something whose first name is stink.
Me, I cradle them in a tissue, march them to the back porch and give them a little pep talk.
“I have no quarrel with you, stink bug, so I’m setting you free. I wish you health, happiness and a competent press agent who’ll help you overcome the stigma of your off-putting name. Now, go and be free! And if you come back, better not let the missus catch you or else she’ll flush you down the crapper.”
I don’t know whether my little speech is heeded or is met with deaf ears. Heck, I don’t even know if stink bugs have ears. Despite my heartfelt promotions, all I really know about stink bugs is it’s unwise to squash ‘em.
But I believe every stink bug should have the opportunity to overcome hateful perceptions.
I hope one day teams of entomologists will reveal that a rare stink bug has been witnessed transforming itself into the most beautiful butterfly ever seen.
Dedicated entomologists would no doubt be bug-eyed at the sight, but that would, of course, be redundant.
How can dedicated entomologists be anything but bug-eyed?
But I will not rest until we banish all hateful bias from man, animal and insect.
That kind of obnoxious behavior really bugs me.
I think it stinks.