Poison Clinics

Spring-like weather outside is bringing the House to life, or bringing things to life outside the House and they're sneaking in through the floorboards. Whatever the case, THERE ARE ANTS IN OUR HOUSE. Those blurry little black objects in the picture are none other than the elemental-acts-of-God themselves. (Anyone remember Leiningen versus the Ants from high school? Its a short story of a proud plantation owner defending his turf from a blood-thirsty colony of migrant ants.) Although there are several differences between Leiningen's situation and ours, three things are unchanged: ants inherent desire to infiltrate and destroy, man's inherent desire to fight, and ... actually, two parallels was a stretch, three would be silly.

Our first line of defense: ant baits. When these weapons first arrived Jacque referred to them as "little ant houses," Cody called them "poison clinics." Both names have some truth. The term "ant house" is misleading; the baits are like ant houses in the sense that they're structures made specially for ants, but unlike a house, these units are not designed for ants to live in them. The term "poison clinics" is a bit cruel; they're kind of like poison clinics in the sense that they are full of poison, but 'clinic' sounds so Hitler – opposed to the Treaties of Versailles somehow.

Exterminating one of God's creatures might be difficult for some people to agree with regardless of the method or mode. Please don't misunderstand, I've watched the Discovery Channel as much as any Adventist kid growing up; and I've seen Dream Work's real-life documentary Antz. I would be woefully amiss if I didn't say ants have hopes and dreams like every other insect, including us. But when someone comes into your house uninvited and starts carrying off the crumbs from your kitchen counter to their queen and all her sons, lethal force is the only solution.