| in insect culture, my eye is comparable to the french metro. on many occasions i have simply been minding my own business when a bug decides that my eyeball would be a perfect place to end his life. this phenomonom has inadvertently been caught on film by one of my friends, forever immortalizing my (or my eye's) attractiveness as a buggy graveyard. i could be wearing sunglasses, a blindfold, or a sporty pirate patch and it wouldn't make a difference--the determined little fellows would somehow find a way to enter into my eye socket and commit suicide.
does this make me some sort of kevorkian? i definately mean no harm to the insect kingdom and i wonder if i am viewed as some kind of death-god by them. maybe they feel the need to sacrifice one of their own kind to me so as to assuage my great wrath and bring peace upon their lands. this solution amuses me the most, so i therefore proclaim it as true. | 
