Scarystuff: I, for one, welcome our eight-legged overlords

If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably got a lengthy list of things that you’re planning to get around to doing someday. My own list consists of everything from “get in shape” and “write a novel” to “learn to play the guitar”, “teach my young apprentice how to whistle” and “watch The Sound of Music with Laura”.

I’m here to tell you that it’s time to get cracking on that list. Why? Because mankind’s days as the dominant species on the planet Earth are numbered.

It’s not the end of the world; far from it. The world will continue to careen merrily through space long after we’re gone, none the worse for our absence. The world will, however, be a very different place.

It will be covered with webs.

Yes, webs; sticky silken strands spun by hideous, creepy, octolimbal ((Not a real word.)) octocular, ((Ditto.)) venom-fanged, wall-crawling, skittering-around-to-the-sound-of-plucked-violin-strings arachnids for the purpose of ensnaring their hapless prey.

The common belief is that the majority of this prey consists of unsuspecting insects, and that’s where things have started to take a shocking—not to mention species-threatening—turn. According to a Newsvine article, a massive, sprawling web apparently constructed by “social cobweb spiders” engulfs a 200-yard section of wilderness trail in a North Texas park.
Social Spider WebThere is no photo of this monstrous web included with the article—I can only assume that the editor did not wish the sight of such a horrific construct to completely shatter the reader’s sanity—but an irresponsible commentor has seen fit to link to an article on the Texas Entomology website that contains just such a photo. I include a thumbnail of that photograph here, as well as links to both the Social Spider article and the full-sized photograph. The thumbnail does not show sufficient detail to damage the psyche and I trust that my readers—having been adequately forewarned and being possessed of exceptional strength of will and psychological fortitude—can judge for themselves whether the horror of this spectacle will be sufficient to unhinge them.

Lest the reader adopt the mistaken belief that this phenomenon is limited to Texas, a state in which “bigger” has transcended mere adjectivity ((Faced with the complete extinction of homo sapiens I have allowed myself some leeway with the English language. I do this without apology or regret.)) and become a full-fledged religion, I must disclose that I have witnessed similiar phenomena (albeit to a somewhat lesser degree) right here in northeast Ohio. Just last week I marveled (and was concurrently revulsed by) a silken structure that stretched from the railing of my deck to the eave of my house, a distance of perhaps fifteen feet. More recently, one or more spiders—moving with the stealth and speed of tiny, eight-legged ninja—made several attempts to ensnare me in my own kitchen, stringing their invisible death ropes across the room in multiple locations so as to bind my head.

Fortunately, I have survived these attempts on my life, which I can only assume were as pre-emptive as they were inadequate. The arachnids may be working together, but—at least here in Ohio—their organizational skills are not yet sufficient to mount a full-scale assault on humanity.

There are approximately 40,000 species of spiders spinning their webs across all regions of the globe, including the Arctic. There is nowhere to run; nowhere to hide. Should the behavior of the spiders in Texas spread to the rest of the world, the human race is doomed.

10 thoughts on “Scarystuff: I, for one, welcome our eight-legged overlords”

  1. I chalk all of this speculation up to not having enough coffee in your diet. 🙂

    That’s one possibility. More than likely it’s due to me having both an irrational fear of and (perhaps equally irrational) fascination with spiders.

  2. I’m working on the guitar thing even now!

    You are a better man than I. More motivated, at any rate.

    Perhaps your guitar playing will either (1) lull the spiders to sleep or, (2) rock their spinnerets off.

  3. Three ultra-creepy spiders with bodies about the size of pennies have laid traps for me around my garage, including across the door. If I should disappear within the next couple days, tell my mother I’m sorry I forgot to drop off that bench she was asking about.

  4. Wow! EEEEEWWWWWWWWW… I must say that if I were to come across that web (and we all now that I am just unobservant enough to be the person who gets caught in it) I would problably no longer have to go to the bathroom!

  5. Three ultra-creepy spiders with bodies about the size of pennies have laid traps for me around my garage, including across the door. If I should disappear within the next couple days, tell my mother I’m sorry I forgot to drop off that bench she was asking about.

    There are probably upwards of three or four dozed spiders of various sizes around the entry portal to the International House of Johnson. It is the curse of our dusk-to-dawn entry light, I expect.

    I’ll be sure to pass the message on to your mother, along with “oh, and he said I could have all his stuff.”

  6. Wow! EEEEEWWWWWWWWW… I must say that if I were to come across that web (and we all now that I am just unobservant enough to be the person who gets caught in it) I would problably no longer have to go to the bathroom!

    Poop!

  7. Ah, picturesque Mirkwood in the summer! Or perhaps that’s the Dark Forest near dear old Aragog’s lair?

    “Hello, Mrs. Shelob, I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes about our Lord and Sav-AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!”

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