Mosquitos Bite! Especially if they carry Malaria!!

Banning DDT kills millions. Yes, you read that right. In Uganda, Malaria is a debilitating disease that afflicts about 12 million of the country's 27 million people.

Environmentalists are opposed to the spraying of DDT. They prefer to be on the safe side, by continuing the ban on the pesticide after the 1970's release of Silent Spring by Rachel Carlson. It became the symbol of chemically based insect control overuse in agriculture.

While pesticides are viewed as hazardous in general, sometimes, the pro's out weigh the cons, as in this instance where nearly half the citizens suffer because of the ban.

The fact that DDT is responsible for eradicating Malaria in the U.S., Europe and much of Asia, is being ignored, and Ugandans suffer. The complacency of those that now reside in the safe zones, sickens me. I find environmentalists, armed with their facts, have completely lost sight of the impact a full out ban is having on Africa. If it is used to end the devastation on the human populace, the food exports will all become suspect, limiting their export.

Here are my questions.
How catastrophic to the environment would be the use of DDT if handled properly?
What good are the exports if they have the potential of transporting the affected mosquitos back to the countries that smugly refuse to aide a crippled nation?
What good are the proceeds from their exports going to do them if they're dead?

Unless you've got a better idea, why not knock out the rest of the Malaria carrying insects, then shelf it? How selfish and self-righteous we must appear to those we could help,yet refuse, by not finishing the annihilation of the disease-spreading mosquitos?

You know what they say, be careful what you do and say, because it'll come back around to bite you in the @$$. In this case, it could be a deadly mistake forall of us.
10/20/2005 7:20 PM
word count 284

Doug 36

I've fallen way behind in my blog posting. So consider this a blog-a-thon. Tonight I'll upload some of my back-log.After a little updating and past tense tweeking, I'll be good to go,and you'll get a snicker or two out of my uncitified existence.

Boy, what I'll do for a buck is really sad sometimes.

There's a lot of down time involved in a rural store. By that I mean, you have a lot of time to contemplate things like, the meaning of life, day time TV and where on earth that awful smell is coming from.
After kicking back at the desk in every way possible, experimenting with radio stations, and rummaging the entire catalog of creative wall papering ideas, I went to a stack of papering catalog's near the front door. While crouched down and yanking the hefty volumes from the precarious row balanced against a carton of discontinued and terribly boring rolls, I took in a quick, deep breath as my knee screamed in pain. I quit breathing instantaneously when I got a lung full that left a bad taste in my mouth on it's way through.The stench of death infused my two hour old chewing gum with a sickening sweetness of the fairly recently deceased. I clamped my mouth shut and straightened out, which shot more unpleasantness up my body. I'm too out of shape to be moving so fast. I realized instantly that I had been crouched directly over a very dead mouse. For such a small creature it sure carried a mighty big smell.
I had finally found a purpose for my day; Rid the store of that aud de corpse. Whisking away the critter with a wad of toilet tissue did not suffice. The aroma stayed.I tried the usual Glade air freshener and got a potpourri of the two. Slightly masking, and maybe even enhancing it's subtle undertow. This morning I didn't think I'd find anything as chokingly infused as the warehouse air after running that old propane fork lift. I was so wrong. I dipped into the whole pile of deoderizer's claiming to be the best.
So here I sit in a room smelling of cinnamon sticks, citrus bouquet,lavender and spray starch, and undoubtedly, Jerry...the mouse, may he rest in peace, in the outside dumpster.


I start feeling a little old when other family members, namely my daughter, offers to do my dry wall. What happened to the days when I would have done it myself?
I walked out of the house this morning, eyeing the milk can filled with walking sticks of various shapes, sizes, and vintage. I contemplated giving in to the weakness in my limbs and bringing one along, just in case.
I decided I'd rather look cool when I fall down. The clatter of a free falling cane always draws all attention within ear shot to the idiot that can't even remain upright with walking aide in hand.
I've had to do a lot of kneeling today. Thank goodness my intuition told me to wear green-jeans. Those are my lime green ugly pants. While the color does not offend anyone with a lime fetish, they are comfortable, durable, and expendable. I think I did a fine job of disguising the bad taste of a retro color in an unattractive cut, even in an 80's state of mind (narrow ankles). I tend to forget that the fashion machine doesn't turn here. Anything is pretty much game, unless we're talking bold ethnic. I'm probably the only person in the Mid West that would dare, but then, I went out in public in my ugly pants, so what do I know?


Okay,all it took was one little delivery to end that I'm-so-old stuff, and give me hot-damn-flashes. His name is Doug 36. He's not an airborne virus, he's Fed-Ex Ground, and more of an intoxication. The 36 is because that's his number on a scale of 1-10. I should slap myself for being so silly, but I'm way over due for a stupidity attack. That's what hit me today. I was in a stupor. Rare for a person like me. I've always got something to say. I didn't counter with any Cerebral Gas wisdom like, "So, you ever been married? No? Do you like girls? Yeah? I thought you did. No doubt that's your problem. You oughtta set your sights a little higher up the food chain." Then I slip a sly wink in there and saunter. Not today.
While acting on impulse is a great fantasy all grandmothers cling to, we've been around long enough to know better. There are people that count on me in all my mid-life sanity. I'm not saying that getting older makes you more responsible, just wiser.
A woman is made the rock, the stability required to hold a family together. The role is born out of the need of others, not the desire of the aforementioned matriarch.
Ten years ago I would have hopped in his truck. Today, I sign the bill, shake his hand and return to the desk almost feeling like I should be having an after sex cigarette, because, that's as close to it as I'll get.
Besides, in my ugly clothes, I can't imagine anyone being impressed likewise.