No more bubbles, but lots of bugs
Two contrasting stories caught my attention today. The first was the announcement that Don Ho had died. For people of a certain age, he was the symbol of Hawaii. We didn’t know much about those islands, but we could all sing at least one song from there: Tiny Bubbles. And we knew about the ukelele, that tiny guitarlike affair that seemed to appear at the strangest of times on TV. Don Ho was an icon. No more tiny bubbles.
The second involves bugs, or rather, people that appreciate them for their amazing variety and ability to survive. This evening, Tout Le Monde En Parle had, among their guests, a strange bibitte. The man responsible for the Insectarium in Montreal brought, along with his strange sense of humor and joie de vivre, several friends. The other invited guests were less enchanted.
Nothing too scary; a scorpion for you, and a millipede for you. Some butterflies for all of us. Doesn’t matter if a butterfly didn’t flutter; he had others. In folded paper envelopes. Actually, his story about the film Papillon Bleu was special. He was the original character, and then Hollywood did its thing. Some bitterness, but all things shall pass. Don’t let the small things bug you.
His explanation that the pest side of bugs was really man’s fault should come as no surprise. We tend to be the author of most things that affect us, after all. Keep your kitchen clean, and the bugs will look elsewhere. Above all else, stop blaming the Insectarium.
