It Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got That Sting

Well ... I just got stung by a hornet.

This is arguably the most painful thing I have ever experienced from any object penetrating my body to a depth of less than half a centimeter.

I was walking into the powder room, intending no harm to any creature, great or small, when this malevolent insect makes a beeline for my arm and buries his pointy, poison bum right into the soft, white underside of my forearm. "Wha?" I say. "Ow," I say. "That bastard is still stinging me," I say. "Why won't the cursed thing let go of me?" I say. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Get it off me! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Get it off!" I say.

This was a real hornet. A hornet with malice in its heart. This was not some devil-may-care honey bee that could be easily intimidated and shooed back to its lair quaking in fear after nothing more than a stern rebuke. No, this thing went at me with a purpose. This was the Guy-Who-Stabbed-Monica-Seles of the insect world. I had to reach down and manhandle the thing just to get it off my arm.

Even then the blasted stinger stayed behind and kept on stinging me. What do you do in a situation like that? Is it like being impaled by a farm implement and you shouldn't pull it out otherwise it could jostle something vital inside and you could bleed to death? You see it all the time on TV. "Another inch and it would have hit an artery," and "He's lucky you didn't try to remove it. He would have bled to death in minutes."

Well, I've watched enough episodes of "Emergency!" on TVLand to know what to do. I pulled it out. It was a split-second decision. Could have meant the difference between life and death.

But, my ordeal had only just begun. What had started as just a nuisance soon blossomed into searing agony. I would rate this as a 3.0 on the Schmidt Sting Pain Index: "Like spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut." I'm going to have to write that Schmidt guy a letter. He nailed it.

You should see the thing now. There is Ground Zero, the actual point of penetration, which is an angry red eye surrounded by an areola of swelling, perhaps a centimeter in diameter. This lies in a scarlet circle about as big around as a 50 cent piece. Then there are tendrils of redness radiating from the center, the longest of which reaches a good inch-and-a-half, two inches from the sting as the poison spreads through my body in its relentless effort to cause me harm.

It's been over an hour now and I haven't gone into anaphylactic shock, but I'm not out of the woods yet. You see, the hornet is still alive. He's out there somewhere. Waiting. Waiting.

He'll be back. I know it. But this time I'll be ready.

See the video:

http://eyebob.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html

Judas Priest!

If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you the story
Of an ill-fated Catholic priest
Who refused to give in to a world full of sin
Or be pushed around by The Beast.
Father Bernardo was always a maverick,
A shepherd who strayed from his flock.
He’d always been waitin’ to sock it to Satan
But, sometimes he went off half-cocked.

O! The world was in a condition
Of moral decline and decay.
He would plead and cajole to save every lost soul
And try to keep evil at bay.
But, his righteous efforts were fruitless.
His supply couldn’t meet the demand.
There were always so many to preach to that when he
Was through, vice was still out of hand.

Then, one day he devised a solution;
A scheme he started to form.
The way to salvation for all God’s creation
Lay in one hell of a storm!
She blew in from off of the ocean.
In a chartered airplane he sought her.
He took to the air and blessed it with prayer,
And for eight days it rained Holy Water.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Life was just peachy at first.
But it got out of hand, the pope hit the fan
The priest’s pious plot was now cursed.
It dealt a death blow to the wicked.
Hit politicians especially hard.
And, not just the sinister, but clergy and minister
And rabbi were all caught off guard.

They all washed away in the deluge
Or melted like the Witch of the West.
As they drowned in the gutter, the evil would sputter
How sorry they were they'd transgressed!
Bernardo himself was a victim!
I suppose he wasn’t holy as thou.
He wasn’t immune to his righteous monsoon
Though he thought he would be until now.

Bernardo had sure learned his lesson.
Mere mortals can’t keep folks from Hades.
He lay down to die and with his last sigh,
Knew that was no way to speak to a laity.
He bowed before God for his judgment.
God said, “You didn’t think it all through.
I did it all for a reason, all things in their season.
Man bit the apple, now chew.”

And that is the end of my story
Of the priest who fell out of grace.
He tried to save souls from Hell’s fiery coals
But he ended up flat on his face.
For God made evil on purpose.
It’s part of His holy design.
It seems it is our doom, and to err is human,
And to forgive is surely divine.

Movers, Shakers and Do-ers

I'll take the Dewars!

I'm Going to Burn for This One!

Let's see ... who had the lamb? ... don't forget to add the tip...

... look at the price of this wine! ... I told you we should have gotten a pitcher ...

... let's just split it 12 ways ... no! You don't owe anything ... you're the Host!

No ... I think that one looks more like a bunny rabbit.

I've seen this one before. Let's see if we can get Seinfeld.