The bed bugs are on the march.

Don’t let the bed bugs bit you, they say. But how can you, like, not let them? The little pests are on the march, like Lazarus rising. The bloodsuckers where no longer an issue but somehow they are charging into our bedrooms, walls, sockets and random holes again. The stay of the radar, out of sight, but the shit stains are usually the hint to the mosquito bites you experience during the winter. What bites? Ah, the bed bugs. Nature is trying it’s best to wipe us of the map like it is gathering the troops and getting them ready for the battle. Bed bugs, madmen, diseases, quakes, floods, bees, sharks. Man, if nature was a bit smarter it would mutate every shark into land walking lunatics roaming the streets looking for a quick bite. If it was smarter it would turn the bees into wells of hyper potent poison. But nature has created madmen with shaking fingers over the buttons of the Grand A-bomb, men not mad enough to push the button, diseases not concentrated enough to kill us all, quakes merely strong enough to lay cities in ruin, floods killing only a handful of people while the virus-like man reproduces in ever larger numbers. It looks like nature is either softhearted or sloppy.

Or maybe the human race is a beautiful thing, capable of miracles of peace, love and understanding. The hippies got it, but the message floated into the ditch with too much acid, with a counterculture movement falling for the trap laid out by a Leary-cultish way of thinking. A great thought was generated in the minds of the flower children, but as usual it went too far and escalated into a nut-case wing far off the chart.

We are by all means a species out of balance with the rest of the world, but this can also be nothing more than an illusion, we might be in the bloom of our potential. We might have turned into exactly what we were supposed to be, a breed of builders, collectors, adventurers, artists and thinkers. Every scrap of nature might be a perfect thing, meant to balance it all out. Like the world is here for us and like we are here for the world. Every garden needs a gardener and man is plowing through the garden like a farmer on Meth. Man is weeding the garden like natures natural way of growing needs organizing, shit must be killed off, moved or fertilized, need more shade or more sun, it must all be neat, stones must be laid in patterns and trees lined up to fit into the I Ching flow of things.

I have no idea of what I am trying to say here, but for some reason the bed bugs are back. They are becoming a new problem and I am not looking forward to getting this buggers in between my sheets. Please, somebody kill ‘em all!

http://www.aftenposten.no/bolig/inspirasjon/article3687339.ece

But nature has put a couple of cute fellas out there to do the hard work, trying to keep our numbers down:
http://www.side3.no/article2997965.ece