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Show 2 - HOPPING “MES - JULY 1993 7 sass. areas The Nature of the Beasties Natural foods, natural colors, natural flavors, the natural look. If “natural” is in the moniker, bingo, it’s hip, slick, and cool. The current advertising industry has bestowed its highest product endorsement. In relationship affairs, 3 natural parent is one who behaves the way parents are supposed to behave. No incest or other soul-killing violence. monsters were doing an hors d’oeuvre number on the flowers, stopping by the Drive as a Class B Grand lawnmowers out of a Steven King County Road. nightmare, inhaling the vegetables as entrees, and finally stripping the leaves off our Russian Olive trees for desert. I cursed, swatted, stomped, sliced, Natural affections are right on the mark, not jaded, cloying, malicious, or Grasshopper? Fetch me the blender and co-dependent. If someone does or asks us to do something abominable, we juicerator. Better yet, the microwave. nature, we say. Nature is no abominatron. Then I remember killer diseases, the insanity of war waged by natural man, other infamous types of dreams, and one November gale born in hell, and I wonder if nature is always pure, beneficent, good. Which brings me to my most recent encounter with the fact that nature is uneven and oddly hinged. Not long ago I walked through the garden and felt myself under siege. This little spot in Castle Valley had suddenly been transformed into an insect version of Jurassic Park. Little prehistoric beasties were jumping about like corn on a hot skillet, beating their wings against my face, clinging to my skin like leeches. As William Bendix used to say, “What a revolting development this is.” Indeed. Moreover, these cannibalistic At their regular monthly meeting, July 13th, the Grand County Council appears to have accepted Castle Valley grapes for a fruit course, sweeping through the “salad” grass like squished, and schemed their murder. Isn’t there an exotic drink called The recoil in horror. It is unnatural, against Late Breaking News Grasshopper turnovers. I wondered if there was a neutron bomb capable of sending every last one of these marauders straight to its just reward. The dankest squat in Hades must be infested by these vaulting mouths on stilts. Then I laughed. Another of my nature buttons had been pushed. The anger button. Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is the most fun. These hoppity muncher fiends provided me the perfect opportunity to lick my wounds, smack my lips over old grievances, roll my tongue over the prospect of bitter confrontations to come, and savor to the last toothsome morsel the revengel would inflict. My anger was a feast fit for a king. I name anger of that magnitude with a four-letter word—hate. And hate is all-absorbing as love, as irrational, and in its own way as satisfying. Lovers thrive on the presence of the beloved. Haters revel in their encounters with that which they hate. These grasshoppers were confirming in me all my dark suspicions about the humbuggery of nature's being so blissfully, ecstatically, and unfailingly good. They were adding fuel to my most burning animosities. The thought of digging my heel into another hopper made my hateful heart pound. Extenninate the order Orthoptera. Death to locusts, katydids, meadow munchers, Mormon, sand, camel crickets, or whatever other names these varmints are called. Death by natural causes: me. But haters lose themselves in the process of retribution, a high price for such fleeting satisfactions. The major difference between hating and loving is that to love is to be fulfilled and enriched by the experience. By giving yourself to loving you find yourself, become yourself. To hate is to be diminished and drained. Hate is the ultimate consuming passion. The chief drawback of the anger/ T‘@ WOULDN’T IT BE NICE? CARPOOL TO MOAB Call to get your name on‘the‘ list. Damian 0 6343 hate feast I contemplated is that I was about to wolf down myself. The skeleton at the feast was not Jimminy Cricket, it was me! —Donovan Roberts |
