The good column – from mosquitoes and humans

“Fortuna smiles; But she may be reluctant to delight; / she gives us a summer day, / she also gives us mosquitoes. ”This is how a few known verses by Wilhelm Busch are. But while during Busch’s lifetime the snacks were simply made from the world through a few brave blows with the flat hand, we have it more difficult today.

The advanced climate change ensures milder winter, extreme temperatures in summer and stronger rainfalls, i.e. for ideal living conditions for the mosquito. The consequences: Not only does the number of mosquitoes are increasing drastically, they also have “more extensive activity periods”, as the media formulate in their typical trivialized manner. In German this means that the dirt cups are everywhere. And they are outnumbered. They come into your apartment, terrorize you, drink your blood, rob you of sleep and trigger dangerous virus diseases. With great naturalness you make your kitchen your Schnackselstube and your bathroom your breeding site. Until finally slipping new and even more critters and repeating the process in potentiated form.

I am not sure whether animal species that deserve it should not die out in a better future. In any case, it is certain: so far it has always been the wrong animal species that have been repaid by the ground. The cotton dodo, a bird that was unable to fly in the 17th century, and the Quagga, for example, a zebra-like four-legged friend, whose last living specimen did his last sneaker in 1883, have never done anything.

The good column

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Thomas Blum In principle, it does not agree with the prevailing so -called reality. For the time being, he will not be able to change them, but he can use them to exhort them or, if necessary, also cover one. So that the bad withdraws. We are solidarity with his fight against reality. Therefore, “the good column” appears at this point on Mondays. Only the best quality for the best readers! The collected texts can be found at: dasnd.de/diegute

In contrast to the mosquito: “By the way, people are only stung by the females,” said the Austrian daily “The Standard” recently. “Female gel need proteins from the blood of mammals to produce eggs.” Only to make it clear: “mammals” are meant here and I. I can see not only from the felled number of the itchy and reddened swelling with which my body is littered with, but also at the amount of the blood stains distributed irregularly on my bedroom wall: climate change is my enemy. And I fight it in my modest way.

I refuse to continue to serve as a protein supplier for vampirmates: at night when it comes to my ear and grumbles and I notice again too late that I have already been abused as a protein source and blood petrol station, I go on mosquito hunt. Anyone who could observe me would be intended for a memorable scenery: a man-drawn man in his hand, a urine-brew paperback in his hand, only dresses with a few sleep shorts made of merzerized cotton, which are printed with bugs-bunny motifs, stands vertically in bed, the manic look rigidly directed at the ceiling, in a kind of trance scattered. In doing so, I catch how I get the mosquito: “I get you, you pig.” I say: Of course, the mosquitoes are pigs. I say: The animal on my ceiling is a pig, this is not a human, and so we have to deal with him. And of course it can be shot.

At least eleven people have died in Italy since the beginning of the year after being infected with the West Nil fever transferred by mosquitoes. »Mosquitoes are the cause of more than 800,000 deaths per year; In doing so, they represent the most fatal animal for humans, by far a distance from all other animals (apart from humans themselves). «(Wikipedia)

Now I am not in possession of a firearm and one may not be the ideal combat device: in the long run, their use would leave unsightly traces on my walls. But on my bedside table, the cervix book (free review copy) already mentioned above is available for a popular Axel jumper servant. To read it would be too much. But with a really dose -dose punch, it has exactly the right thickness it takes to end the life of a Subito mosquito. Zack! After successfully doing killing, the remains of the blood -absorbing insects mostly stick to the book. That happens to you. Until the end of every day, their crushed corpses will serve as a memorial for those following: Anyone who thinks they can snack, hum, sting and murder in my home ends on the enclosure of the book of a jumper editor.

You can see: I don’t just want to kill the critters, I also want to humiliate them.