Fireworks, Bees, Frogs, OBBB & B-2's
By Mike Bibb
Is there a connection between 4th of July fireworks, bees, frogs and President Trump's One Big Beautiful Bill?
Not certain, but in my backyard there appears to be a link. Or, possibly it's just climate change, which seems to be the go-to explanation when nothing else makes much sense.
During the week of July 1st to the 4th, I was stung twice by a pissed-off bee, who actually chased me into the house before I terminated his attack by returning fire with a can of Raid.
On Friday morning, the 4th of July, Trump signed his OBBB into law. It's supposed to make things better.
Then, during the evening of July 4, I observed a small frog/toad hopping around. Apparently, enjoying the coolness of recently watered shrubs and trees.
I hadn't seen this kind of amphibian activity in several years.
Was this a natural phenomenon or a sign from Heaven things are about to get better? Did the frog emerge to celebrate Congress' approval of President Trump's Big Beautiful Bill and his subsequent signing of it while Roman candles and rockets were going off in the background?
Is a desert frog more intuitive than Democrats, who refused — every one of them— to vote for Trump's bill?
It would look that way.
On the other hand, I don't think the little bee was into politics. He let me know, for one reason or another, that when raking oleander leaves and debris around his domain, I upset his daily routine to such an extent he willfully pursued and zapped me twice.
Once on the right cheek, followed by a jab behind the left ear.
I'm not into conspiracy theories too much, but the bee incident is beginning to look like he intentionally plotted to ding me in the head to inflict as much pain and suffering as possible.
Especially, considering we had never previously met. Unless, it was a "For Hire" contract sting, planned and approved by an Executive Order from within the hive's administrative offices.
Jesus reminded us to turn the other cheek and forgive our aggressors. Good advice, except I opted for the handy can of bug spray instead.
Let the bee explain his motives to Jesus when he meets him. I simply provided the opportunity.
Not very Christianly — but reality. In a moment of self-defense, I grabbed the equivalent of an M-16 assault rifle and fired full-auto at the pesky dude.
He bravely died for his cause. However, he's a worker bee and everything he does is for the benefit of the Queen and her subjects in the hive. So, he took his chances knowing he might not have made a wise decision.
Nevertheless, I didn't mourn his valiant fight. I won, and that's all that mattered.
A couple of days later, I noticed the toad roaming around the yard. Hummm, aren't frogs and toads insect eaters?
Think I remember that lesson from Mrs. Stilksen's science class. Frogs devour bugs because that's what they're designed to do. Nature made them that way.
Just like Democrats oppose Republicans. Apparently, that's what they are supposed to do. No one knows why or the logic of it, or even if Democrats know they're doing it.
Am I'm being overly critical? I don't know, perhaps the frog showed-up to let me see he would now be patrolling the area to rid it of any dangers that may threaten myself, family members and visitors.
Sort of a private police force to monitor and restrain the bad guys.
Now, if we only had more Members of Congress as concerned about my wellbeing as a backyard frog, things would probably be more pleasant and I wouldn't have to listen to a CNN reporter tell me a riot in a distant community "Is mostly peaceful" — as buildings and cars are ablaze and looters are running out of stores carrying armfuls of stolen merchandise.
Somehow, the narrative doesn't fit the picture. In much the same way several Congressional representatives' antics are difficult to figure out.
Conceivably, it's just the remnants of "Biden fatigue," gradually twisting and writhing into extinction.
There has to be a little initial discomfort in the healing process. After all, the previous four years of constant confusion and horrible mismanagement will take a while to recover from.
On the bright side, Joe, Jill and Hunter have finally gone to the beach for good. Maybe, Joe took his autopen machine to sign autographed pictures for his two or three adoring fans; Hunter can smoke some dope under the watchful eyes of the Secret Service and Jill will finally pen the finishing touches on her upcoming best seller "How I Saved Joe From Making A Complete Fool Of Himself" — with an inspiring forward by her former husband.
Meanwhile, as Joe peacefully rests on the sand, it's the daybreak of a new era when B-2 bomber pilots, frogs and beautiful people everywhere join hands together in a Kumbaya moment, gaze toward the rising sun and soulfully sing "This time, it really is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius."
Bees aren't invited — Someone has to stay home and do the work!
