51; One of those things

The world, that is the planet, is covered in people. People and water, the latter of which outmeasures people quite significantly. People, however, are generally undisputed in the terrestrial race, save for insects which outnumber us many times over. Are there any beetles at the south pole, though? No? Good. That means we are the only critter to be on all seven terrestrial land masses. Desert, rain forest, tundra: all one and the same to us humans.

Spread over these land masses are roughly 30 large civilizational blocks. Probably more. Yet one of these blocks, from one of the smaller geographical demarcations (Western European), seems to have near conquered the globe.

I am a total product of this civilization. I was raised in the United States, in San Francisco, a white, educated, Protestant, male. If I'd had any talent or intelligence I'd be prime politician fodder. I think I'd make a good Governor, but then I'm basing my views on Mel Brook's portrayal of the position in Blazing Saddles. I went to private school, was raised more or less middle class, and generally had an easy time of it.

The unusual thing in all of this, is that I look upon it all retrospectively. I had those advantages at one point, and they may have helped foist me into a shady but well-paying path of power and corrupt dominance. But I practically shunned them (except the education thing. My mom worked too hard for me to give that privilege up.) to the point that now I no longer even see outside forces effecting me, instead making myself as I go.

So I ponder, as one does, whether they are unique, or whether this is One Of Those Things (OOTTs). One Of Those Things like: Wisdom comes with age. Beauty is more than skin deep. Your elders may actually know something. Your elders don't actually know much more than you, but that's okay, we'll still respect them anyway, 'cause, hey, they're old.

All of these things I fought against and argued against and had to find out for myself. And then adolescence was over.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that OOTTs are true the globe over. And I don't think it's a case of imported West European values. I'm not sure if they've always been true. My suspicion isn't disclosing any answers. It has, instead, snuck off to raid the refrigerator for left-overs. Sneak, sneak, sneak.

My suspicion looks up at me, puzzled, with a wiggle of chicken meat dangling out of it's lips.

"What?"
"You've been eating chicken from my fridge you suspicion, you."
"That's impossible. No. I firmly deny it. Never. Never."
"Seems a bit out of character for you, suspicion. You don't generally make denials."
"Ah, but there's no way I could have eaten the chicken."
"And why not?"
"Because you are a vegetarian."

And he scampers off. (Scampering suspicions are just as difficult to get a grasp of as the sneaking variety.) But his work is done. When I view the chicken carcass in my fridge I'm suddenly scratching my head wondering how it got there and who ate part of it.

So, in conclusion: It was the beetles. They are jealous of our terrestrial dominance. They too want to frolic with penguins, being bored with us since we're basically the same all over, as they say. I only wonder if their designs are being manipulated by the fishes.