~ The Misunderstood Grasshopper ~
I would like to point out a few facts about this character some pseudo journalist has ennobled, called the ant. Which in itself was an overstatement of unforgiving proportions heightened only by his assassination of the character of my good friend the grasshopper. Now, as anyone with one eye and half sense knows, who has ever took the time to step across a field, the grasshopper is simply an uneducated harmless fellow reveling about all day laughing, chewing his cud and spitting from elevated weeds, eating what's available and living his life as any good Democrat. Thus I feel obliged to defend my friend who hasn't the time nor inclination to do it himself.
Now this ant, so highly praised for his diligence and even his intelligence, is a sham! And I can prove it.
I sat for an afternoon analysis of this vaunted devil and allow me to present my findings: This creature's very nature is first of all displayed by his color. He is red! He doesn't even attempt to hide the fact he is a Communist! He owns nothing. He labors to collect things to take to his hole where it is stored and used by whosoever. And there are so many of them that a relative spoken with today may never be seen again for weeks, if ever. The young are born, raised and educated by the house. But the worst is, only a select few are permitted to proliferate. And to think the grasshopper was criticized for his conduct. You just observe that ant and talk to me about intelligence!
Now we all see the ant progressing along the ground carrying his load as we walk along, and we are made to think that he is carrying his prize to his den for the improvement of his clan. Let me point out something to you. He finds a thing, usually ten times his size and weight, and has forever been commended by his ability to pick it up and carry it. Which he does. And at times his load is dropped flipping him inches from it, where he shakes his head and returns again to pick it up at the same point and starts off again. In any direction! Unlike the bee that is guided by the sun and divine grace, this imp of the red hoard strikes out in all directions. Three hundred and sixty to one that he goes toward his hole.
Intelligence? Indeed. But note this; when he comes to an obstacle such as a tree, does he go around it? No dear hearts, he struggles with his load to its very pinnacle, looks all about, puzzled, then grapples with his burden until he at last reaches the base and continues on, in yet a new direction. Eventually he meets another of his kind. We don't know if this other red rascal is a member of the same clan, but he grabs a hold of the object and begins tugging in the opposite direction. This may go on for as long as an hour. It requires patience to observe this intelligence displayed by our Commie hero.
At last the two of them start moving aimed in the same direction. At last we think a sensible judgement has been made. But no. After only a few yards has been spanned, the two miners stop, touch mandibles and begin fighting. They roll into a ball and tumble for another hour or so until one of them emerges broken and sans one side of his squeezers and a leg to stand and take stock of what's left of himself. Then after what appears to be a bit of meditation he moves off hobbling along like the wounded worker he is until he comes to a speck of dirt which he tries to pick up with half a side of his carrying tool. Failing that he moves on toward - yes you guessed it, his hole. And is he greeted with warmth and kindness and appreciation by his peers? No. They ostensibly examine him and pounce on him, dismantling him piece by piece until he is scattered all about the entrance to his home hole as some sort of display. A reward, perhaps, for his diligence and intelligence?
So next time you read that tripe about my friend the grasshopper, Just keep in mind that he smilingly appears mysteriously every spring. He worries not, he toils not, pays no taxes, and he can proliferate. And that ant -? Well, I've made my point about that bugger.
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