Between spoonfuls of gluten-free Os, banana, pumpkin seeds and fat-free milk, I pondered. I gave thought to a number of things: the weather, the people I love, the state of the world, the Roto-Rooter guy that will be arriving at any moment. But I was mostly thinking about why I like grasshoppers. They are, after all, destructive little creatures with oversized heads, oddly shaped bodies, and crookity crooked legs. And then there's the sensation of having one attached to your arm. Have you ever had one use you as a landing strip? Weird!
As you see, I spent a bit of time thinking about grasshoppers this morning. I wanted to know why I like them—despite their short-comings (my classification). I decided it had something to do with a belief that I had as a child. Something that was told to me while I was still in the formative years of my existence. That was that grasshoppers are tobacco users, that they stash a wad somewhere inside that big ole head of theirs, and chew and spit just like people do. Can you imagine? Groups of grasshoppers casually lounging about, spitting tobacco juice in itty bitty coffee cans? No? Well...okay. I guess I better get busy.