Not so long ago, in the mysterious land of survival of the fittest, there lived an ugly wolf hybrid known as Wolfdog. Among his peers, he was distinguished by his big head, a long tongue and a loud howl. Hence, he became the alpha male in his pack. One day, as Wolfdog was on a hilltop searching for a refill for his rumbling stomach, he saw a young lamb with fluffy wool playing in a grassy glade. Wolfdog climbed down the hill to ‘meet’ the charming little lamb, resolved not to lay violent hands on him, but to find some plea to justify to the Lamb his right to eat him. He thus addressed him: “Kid, last year you grossly insulted me.” “Indeed,” bleated the Lamb in a mournful tone of voice, “I was not then born.” Then said Wolfdog, “You feed in my pasture.” “No, good sir,” replied the Lamb, “I have not yet tasted grass.” Again said the Wolf, “You drink of my well.” “No!” Exclaimed the Lamb, “I never yet drank water, for as yet my mother’s milk is both food and drink to me.” “Well! I won’t remain supperless,” thought he. He seized him and ate him up, saying, “So it must have been your mother!” T he Mother powerlessly followed the dialogue. What could this poor mother do when she saw her beloved son being torn into pieces between the teeth of the wolf? She knew she could not reclaim her right, but in the passion of motherhood, this good mother butted Wolfdog. Of course the wolf was not affected at all. But he became very furious, his pupils dilated. He raised the base of his tail. “How dare this ewe touch me!” Thought he. He howled with a long, smooth sound, “This is a terrorist! This is a terrorist!” All other wolves howled, repeating Wolfdog’s words, creating an illusion that there were many condemning the act of the ewe. It is not strange that these howls were heard from 10 miles away, but the strange thing is how these howls echoed throughout the forest. Whereby the parrots joined in and repeated what Wolfdog said, saying, “We condemn the ewe’s butt against the wolf, all the animals are against this barbaric act!”
I saw this little guy, a few days ago, and it really made me think about the movie in which the ladybug was male. So why do we call the lady bugs and not something like, red spotted beetle. I’m not an Entomologist so I can’t tell you exactly how they breed But did not worms and they’re not asexual.
Therefore, there has to be a male ladybug and the female ladybug nt understand English which I’m sure they understand the feeling like most animals understand our feelings the male of the species is probably very offended just like in the movie.
“Awe look at the cute little lady bug.”, a human being says to another human being. And that male ladybug must be feeling like saying I’m a I’m a male stop calling me a lady.
Just labels right, just the name is right, like nigger, Kike, spic, camel jockey etc etc etc. It seems to me that’s the only group of people that have a label such as the ones aforementioned are wasps.
Frankly I think the W.A.S.P.( white Anglo-Saxon Protestant) like being called that. For that is what they do, get together in groups, And Sting us to death, by injecting there venomous thoughts into the minds of our children in school, and adults and children In entertainment and news media.
Perhaps you have never heard this said, but there is a saying, white makes right. Some people say might makes right. However, for the past approximately 550 years the saying should be white makes right.