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OUT OF THE DYING PAN, INTO THE DIE-R (email the scientist)

As I suspected, some of the maggots (probably maggot teenagers, junkies or motorcyclists) have been incautious and have ended up in the drink.

This means that they too have joined the unfortunate part of the wheel of life. So who eats them, I ask myself in the spirit of scientific inquiry?

I am reminded of a poem about fleas....

Little fleas have littler fleas
And littler fleas that bite em
And littler fleas have littler fleas
And so on infinitum

that makes me wonder if maggots have even littler maggots that feed upon them. And so on infinitum.....

Don't know about that, but there are radically different sized maggots and they can sort of co-exist as all you little scientists out there will shortly see in the video de jour.

Today the consistency of the pot changed to something like a nganga pot (darn, there I go giving away a rubric) and it was also a very hot day here in the neighborhood. So we seem to have something in the bucket that reminds me of high-school movies of the continents on Earth, just before they formed.

Well, if those continents had been overrun by enormous outer-space maggots. Coming up is the movie of what all that looks like. This movie also features a lovely sub-plot between a big old maggot and a little one who smack into each other when they try to run after I pull the top off the smell-barrier. At first it looks bad for our hero the little maggot, but he (she?) perseveres and runs for the northern border:

right here

Also, since I have received a sceptical email from some non-scientist (Canadian at that) who believes I am actually making most of this up.. the ISBN number of the book I mentioned yesterday is 0-345-37477-0 and the page with prices in different currency seems to indicate it is available in Canada and other third-world countries, not just the US.

My correspondent is probably just jealous that it is so cold in Canada that after several hours this whole project would be an ice-skating rink for cockroaches. I just don't get those northerners.

Some Rubrics By Which we can Judge the Hideosity of The Project

Smell: Stinky hot death with a soggy carpet thrown on it and left out in the hot sun in some nasty humid climate like in Lousiana.

Without Mardi Gras.

Consistency: Nganga pot. Throw in a horseshoe, someone's hair and the eye of a toad and you have a pretty good basis for a religion.

Visual Appeal: That scene in "Schindler's List"

You know, the kid, the slit trench, the strong desire to vomit?

Bloating: I'm just guessing here, but now bloating has to go with a certain notion of dissapation so: Marlon Brando at an underwater buffet.

Tomorrow: Time for the first pour-off of ick!