Random Thought Thread

Jo the Machinist said:
Ground bees don’t like being weed eated. :(
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Nathan the Machinist said:
Yeah, Jo got ALL fucked up...

(two stings)…

:D

My Dad got into some a couple years ago and it about killed him. Old guy went into shock. He got hit by a bunch and was properly envenomated. Passed out. Ambulance and hospital level shit. So I REALLY hate those little assholes.

I got into some when I was a little boy and it had the opposite of the intended effect. Instead of conditioning me to stay away and leave them alone instead I killed all of those bastards (gasoline and a pickle jar over the opening) and continued finding them and killing them all from then on. I have personally killed so many red paper wasps and yellow jackets I sincerely hope there is no post life tribunal where I'm held accountable for insect genocide (insecticide?)

Yellow jackets and red paper wasps are the worst. Seriously. Fuck those little bastards.
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Do I need to let you guys borrow the Not-a-flamethrower? (I have a pretty good idea what each of their answers will be, lol);)
 
These are ones I hate.... (hell no that's not my hand, internet pic)

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RE: salmon. I try to have salmon once a week. The only fresh salmon we can get here is Norwegian farmed Atlantic. I prefer it to the frozen Chum and others.

Many years ago, maybe late 1980s, we were on vacation in NW Oregon. We went up to Astoria and had lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the harbor. We saw salmon being off loaded. Just for the halibut, we went to a local supermarket to see what salmon sold for. The price was the same as back in Santa Barbara. I asked the meat cutter why. He told me that the Japanese bought the best fish for premium prices and what was left was sold to supermarket chains. They set the price.
 
Fortunately, here in Morro Bay, the salmon comes right off the boat, gets sold to locals or available at restaurants that own the boats that catch the fish.

Morro Bay is known as a seaside fishing village, and for the spectacular Morro Rock, the formation also known as the Gibraltar of the Pacific, pictured in my avatar (end of commercial).
 
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Occasionally, we would go a restaurant on the wharf in Santa Barbara. Prices were pretty high, but the fish was really fresh.

No wharfs here in north central AZ. Maybe when the PRK falls into the ocean we'll have beach front property.
 
When I fought forest fires we had some kind of beetwasp/hornet thing I have only ever seen in the burned areas after a forest fire.

They were about 2 or 2 1/2" long and flew really slowly. They were fearsome, for sure. We called them stump fuckers because they laid eggs in hollow stumps. Weird beasts, and very large and slow.

They did not sting, as far as I know. That was their problem not mine.

We would catch them and sadistically torture them to death. This included burning off one wing and setting it free, cutting off a body segment (head, usually) and setting it free. All kinds of crazy shit. Spent hours killing them one at a time.
 
^those little guys made it over from Japan. We are a Global Village!
I fell out of a tree and broke my clavicle after being stung a dozen times by a nest of whatever I stuck my hand in when I was four. It didn't really sink in, I still do all kinds of stupid shit
 
UffDa said:
They aren't the worst. How about these guys? I read that some have been found in Canada.

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This one is probably dead. No way would I hold a live one.
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There was a cool show about them called Hornets from Hell...might have been NatGeo. 30 of them could wipe out a honey bee hive of 30,000. But the bees would kill a few hornets too...a bunch of them would engulf a hornet in a "bee ball" and vibrate to raise the temp inside the ball just enough to kill the hornet...something like 115deg. But the bees can handle a couple degrees more, so they survive.
 
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I almost lost the end of my finger to the Keffeler North Sword when I stepped into a nest of some stinging little bastards. Should've had it sheathed because I stepped into that nest with my left foot, unleashing whatever they were right up into my left hand. By the time I looked down to see what the hell happened, the sword I was holding in my right hand had responded instinctively and aggressively to all the stinging and its blade ended up in my left hand also. An hour offtrail into the bush, with a rapidly swelling hand whose first two digits were deeply lacerated. At least it was raining so band aids wouldn't stick. Lots of gauze held on with flagging tape, hand held aloft and in a little shock, bee lining it, (no pun intended) through the bush. Not one of my finer moments.

but every time I look down at the middle finger of my left hand, which still tingles feebly without feeling much else, I can't help but say to myself; 'Just do it'
 
When I lived in Goleta, almost ever fall we would get what beekeepers called suicide swarms. There was a juniper in my front yard that they seemed to like. I would call a beekeeper and he would remove the football sized swarms. One year I called and he wasn't interested. He told me to spray them with water and they would go away. I hooked up the hose and sprayed them. They were not happy and they knew exactly who was spraying them. I barely made it into the house. After they calmed down, I filled some balloons with diluted Sevin and bombarded them. An hour later, there were no bees except for the dead ones.
 
There was a time when a much younger planet Earth had 35% oxygen as opposed to the approximate 20% or so oxygen today. The much higher percentage of oxygen meant much denser and lusher vegetation and probably much larger wasps or whatever they were back then, most likely as big as flying cows!

Sweet dreams TRfromMT :D
 
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