Dear Coyote (if that’s your real name),
RE: Guns don’t kill people, stupid people with poisonous insects kill people
CC: Orkin Man; Steven Irwin’s family
In case you haven’t seen Coyote getting stung by a Tarantula Hawk (the 2nd most painful bug bite on earth), do yourself a favor:
Half-witted imbeciles have roamed the earth since prehistoric times, but only recently have these absent minded knuckle-draggers gotten their head stuck in an entirely new metaphorical jar of honey. The advent of the interwebs and inclusion of an HD camera on even the most burner-worthy of phones has lead to a new breed of dumb. An epidemic that supersedes the gravest of illnesses.
And I’m pretty sure you’re agent zero, Coyote. When the end times have come and gone, and a new species of alien life forms lands on earth to use our rotting carcasses as the main ingredient in their energy drink called “Humanoid,” they’ll trace our demise back to you. One Coyote Peterson, a man raised by a Native American medicine woman mother and a pack of wolves. Only someone dumb enough to let the world’s gnarliest wasp sting you for 15 minutes of YouTube fame could crumble civilization faster than the polar ice caps melting and a zombie apocalypse combined.
But don’t worry, Coyote, you’re in good company. The cracks in the foundation of society have been splintering through the earth’s core for what is equivalent to a millennia in Internet years. An Ancestry.com family tree would uncover close familial proximity to these two gems with a future in whatever genre of porn two girls one cup falls into. And don’t forget about the guy who shot himself in the cheek, by most societies’ standards categorized as a suicide attempt, to get you to buy his mix tape.
You sir however are in a league of your own. Remember, there’s no crying in self inflicted bug bites. Aside from the first man to successfully be deep throated by a serpent, you rank at the top of the list of successfully pandering to societies fears. Congratulations, Steve Irwin of SnapChat.
Even the Wet Bandits knew not to mess with a fucking creepy crawly, and they were outwitted by an 8 year old with major adolescent separation anxiety issues … twice. You defied human instinct and harnessed your inner Steve-o to sell a few clicks on your blog. I hope to hell you didn’t just take the “animal biting my genitals” page out of the Jackass alumnus’ book, and were hopped up on a cocktail of whippets and pain killers, too.
But lest we waste any more time applauding your moronic self mutilation, that will undoubtedly be unseated by someone who sticks their genitals into a mound fire ants, let us have a moment of silence for all of the exterminators lost to Africanized bees or a cock-a-mice. Coyote may as well have pissed on the graves of those who gave their life in the name of pest control. RIP, Orkin men.
Enjoy your remaining years as a human ant farm,