Man vs. Nature v.2

June 3, 2009
Signs that you are suffering from a black widow bite: 1. You have been asked to make significant changes to your will...

Signs that you are suffering from a black widow bite: 1. You have been asked to make significant changes to your will...

In the previous installment, we discussed nature vs. me in my current life. (This discussion, you’ll note, was much like any discussion with management. Mainly me talking and you listening or thinking of something else.)

Nature is a different kind of problem where I grew up.

El Paso, Texas.

It climate mirrors most of Arizona. Wrath of God heat. It never rains. When it does rain, it clogs the drain systems which were built on the assumption that “it never rains,” and, consequently have the capacity to hold between 0-1″ of rainwater.

Unlike Arizona, however, El Paso has yet to put together a quality online university or a 9-7 Super Bowl quality football team. We’ve also certainly never had a Hall of Fame bag boy for a franchise quarterback. And it goes without saying that we’ve never had a 38-year old quarterback who managed to throw his way out of Mike Martz’s “defense is for pussies” scheme and into Arizonian folklore.

Perhaps the turning point was Warner’s divorce of Susan Powter


Honey??!! Some of your fingernails are in my brain.

and subsequent marriage to a woman with fewer testicles than him.


Honey??!! Your testicle is making it hard for me to breathe.

He’s become a legendary figure like Paul Bunyan or Andre the Giant. Cue NFL Film’s narration:

Kurt Warner. Raised in the northern Iowa wilderness by panthers, Warner would continue on to try out for the Green Bay Packers. Unable to read Brett Favre’s career intentions, Warner would settle on a much safer position, that of bag boy at the local Hyvee.

Even the 2nd shift manager knew they had something special, as Kurt would routinely hurl customers’ groceries 50+ yards into their open trunks. Still coasting on the cries of, “What an arm!” and “My eggs!” Kurt took his skills to the claustrophobic climes of football’s top arena: arena football.

Kurt’s success at the arena level was unparalleled. He led his Iowa Subisidies to victory after victory, with final scores that frequently rivalled NBA games. It was during this time that he married Susan Powter, an on-the-fence lesbian. He swept her off her experimenting feet, promising that, “Once you go bag, you never go back.”

Powter became known as the architect of Warner’s future and was frequently referred to, out loud, as “tough as nails,” due to her arm wrestling matches with Lenny Dykstra. During this time, Warner signed with the non-L.A. Rams and proceeded to tear every page out of their record books. These were subsequently replaced with new pages and the amount of the replacement docked from his suddenly hefty paycheck…

Anyway, nature.

El Paso fucking Texas. Scorpions, spiders, centipedes and snakes. You’d hear the horror stories. Jars over bed legs to keep the scorpions and centipedes from joining you in bed like a drunken frat boy with the clap. Aggressive black widow spiders who would bite you just for reaching into an area you couldn’t see clearly and settle back to collect the sizable inheritance. Snakes that would winter in your heating vents, complaining about how their hundred of kids wouldn’t visit.

We are legion. And we are rad-resistant.

We are legion. And we are rad-resistant.

But of all the horrors, nothing compares to the fucking roaches. Omnipresent. Fast. And so fucking many of them.

Did you know roaches will climb walls when they know they’re dying? Who knows why? Some leftover instinct from their early days as sun worshippers? Or perhaps their small brains figure everything trying to kill them is a flood?

We did not realize this until we bug-bombed our house. You could hear them falling off the ceiling. Hitting the lineoleum like the world’s smallest self-contained hailstorm.

And they’re immune to everything. Those that survived our bombing run would live on to sneer at the next gas attack.

They still haven’t figured out how to defeat their old nemesis, the shoe, however. But that day’s coming. Then they’ll be back, going all inner city youth on us, a couple hundred thousand strong, stealing our shoes. And coming back for our wallets and jewelry.

Just remember, if that crazy guy is right, and not simply raving to himself, beware of the apocalypse. It will be the survivors versus the roaches and they already have us outnumbered.



  1. I can sympathize a little with your El Paso upbringing — Miami, Fl. is not a whole lot better, except with probably more humidity

    • Yeah, that’s what El Paso has going for it. A “dry heat.” Probably the first thing anyone says once they reach hell.

      “At least it’s a dry heat.”

      Thanks for stopping in, Davis.

  2. Wow…those are some bad ass looking roaches. Georgia roaches are disgusting, but those are just evil looking!

    • They’re not just evil, they’re rude. They borrow the car and leave it empty, they often “forget” they’ve borrowed your DVDs and CDs and they never, ever send a thank you note.

      Steer clear if possible.

      Good to see you again, ynb.

  3. “Signs that you are suffering from a black widow bite: 1. You have been asked to make significant changes to your will…”

    You’re a VERY funny guy.

    • In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have burned the best punchline at the beginning of the post…

      Oh, well. Live and learn.

      Thanks for the props, Alan.

  4. love the bobblehead blonde on the stage

  5. Informative post, CLT.
    When I came back to Canada from Nicaragua, I found one of those repulsive creatures in my knapsack…still alive after 6 weeks. Actually, my (former) friend found it, it was chillin’ out in the ceramic vase I had brought back for her as a souvenir.

    When I told my co-worker the story, she replied with “You do realize you could have gotten into a lot of trouble for bringing that across the border…”.

    I hate my job.

    • Yeah, roaches live forever.

      I had a similar experience at one of my jobs. Found a fruit bat packaged in with our bananas. This was up in Minnesota and he looked pretty frickin’ cold. We let him go, off into the February weather, which was at least 70-80 degrees cooler than was preferred.

      Thanks for the comment, bschooled.

  6. Have you ever just politely asked the roaches to leave? I liked the “…changes to the will” but for me, my spit-take was, “…joining you in bed like a drunken frat boy with the clap”.

    • I asked them once. Their cruel mockery and disease-carrying feet soon had me back to Plan A.

  7. Let the crunchin’ commence!

  8. CLT, anytime you miss the heat or Warner, you can come visit me.

    We have those big sewer roaches here, and some of them fly. Those damn things and palo verde beetles are the stuff nightmares are made of.

    • That whole “desert” scene is just terrifying. I’m trying to figure out what on the food chain is so much better off alive having these bugs to eat.

      Let’s bring back DDT. That should also get rid of the mosquitoes as well, nature’s swarming, unattractive, disease-laden vampires.

    • I can’t imagine what eats sewer roaches. With the heat here and lack of water, we have to let the pool go really green to get mosquitos.

    • What I’m hearing then is that “going green” encourages the spread of bloodborne contaminants.

      I’m off to go dump my Prius (and everyone else’s) into the nearest water supply.

    • Do you really drive a prius?

      If you dump them in the water supply, you will have a much bigger problem than mosquitos.

    • I absolutely don’t. Just tweaking the green crowd. I drive a 72′ Bookmobile.

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