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God Hates Bees: Gender Issues in the Insect World and Why It Sucks to Be a Bee
How much would it suck to be a bee? I mean, think about what a bee's life is all about. First, you live in a hive serving a Queen. As if monarchies aren't totally out-dated and mostly a thing of the past. Second, you are one of like ten thousand women with no men to hang out with. Oh sure, there's some drones cruising the hallways of the hive, but Her Almighty Beeness saves all of the hot ones for herself, which pretty much leaves nothing for you. Then, as if no dates on Friday nights and a supreme tyrant aren't odious enough, you can't even vent your anger in a bar fight or something. Heck, as far as that goes, you can't even defend yourself at all.
In fact, that's probably the worst part of being a bee. I can't think of any other instance in nature that is as unfair as a bee's defensive circumstance. Look at it like this: There you are, minding your little bee business when all of a sudden along comes a predator of some sort and threatens your life. You think to yourself, "Oh crap, a predator is threatening my life. I better defend myself," right? So, being a bee, you turn to your natural defenses and sting your assailant bravely. And what do you get for your courage? Death. And a slow, agonizing one at that.
So what was the point? Seriously, why even bother defending yourself. Let's say the predator was a dog or a bear or even a kid looking for some fun with his new magnifying glass on a sunny day. Whatever. So, in your little insect desire to defend yourself, you thrust your little pinprick stinger into your enemy and then get to suffer the slow and, let's be honest, humiliating death of having your butt ripped out by the roots. How nice! And here you could have died instantly in the crushing jaws of dog or bear, or perhaps slightly less instantly but fast just the same, in the super-heated sunspot of Junior's make-shift laser beam. But no, that's not what you did because you are a bee. You lay there panting with your entrails pulled out of your eviscerated backside, defeated and mocked by both fate and God. Frankly, I think that sucks.
If I was a bee and I died like that, I think when I got to Bee Heaven I would want to have a long discussion with the Bee God to ask him what the heck was up with that one shot stinger thing. I'd say, "Hey, Bee God, what's the deal with my ass coming off the first time I get in a fight?"
Yeah. I'd love to hear what he had to say to that.
Now, I know what you're probably thinking right now; you're thinking to yourself, "I notice this author is just assuming that the Bee God is a ‘he.'" Well, to that I have only one response: Who else would create a society wherein it was almost entirely women, the women do all the work, and the role of men is simply to mate as often as they can with the most prestigious woman of the bunch?
Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't ever question me again!
So anyway, I just felt that it should be pointed out how much being a bee would suck. I think it would bee-hoove all of us to take a deep breath and utter a silent word of thanks to the universe for not making us be a bee. If someone threatens us or makes us mad, at least we can punch them in the mouth, bust a cap in them or whatever else comes to mind. There's a lot to bee said for that. Besides, can you imagine having to wear black and orange stripes every day? Sheesh. No wonder the drones don't even look twice.