BY MICHAEL QUIRK
Chet Hanx may have been premature when he declared 2021 “White Boy Summer,” as according to entomologists, we are set for shit-ton of cicadas summer. Scientists say that after 17 years underground, trillions of Brood X cicadas will emerge in the coming weeks in 15 states across the country.
While it’s been reiterated these insects cause no harm to humans, a trillion of anything is alarming. Five puppies? Adorable. A trillion puppies? That’s B roll on an infomercial. Two candy bars? Delicious. A trillion candy bars? That’s the premise of The Nutty Professor 6. Hell, even a trillion dollars is terrifying. If a genie offered me a billion dollars, I would assume I started the next social media company, but if one offered me a trillion, then I assume I assassinated a sultan of some kind.
Anything that emerges from 17 years in hiding seems like they’re coming for vengeance of some kind. Nobody hides out for 17 years, then comes out for a friendly wave hello to their neighbor, Greg. No, they come out from 17 years of hiding, because they’re finally ready to avenge whatever Greg did to them in 2004. As an aside, so help me God, I better not see one graphic on the news telling me how much gas was in 2004 or what was the top movie in the box office. Cicadas don’t want gas, they just want all the smoke.
I would encourage scientists to for once in their life read a room. After the last calendar year that has seen a global pandemic, potential aliens, and so many other discombobulating things, did you really have to name them “Brood X?” Naming anything as “Brood X” just sounds like lexicon from The Purge franchise. Why not just call them Brood X Soldiers while you’re at it, doc? Apparently, Brood X means these cicadas are teenagers. Oh, just what we need, hormonal, maladjusted teens making TikToks flapping their wings, making all sorts of noise.
Speaking of the noise, scientists have compared the noise these bugs will make to that of a lawnmower. Oh, good. I was just saying the other day how much I hate quiet Sunday mornings, and how they could use a massive amount of racket. The public’s trust in World Order was broken last year, and now you’re telling me trillions of bugs will emerge from the ground for the first time since MySpace came out and they’ll be screaming at the decibel level of a lawnmower in action? Please forgive me if I don’t think to myself we are all going to die.
There are over 7 billion people on Earth, so if we assume by “trillions,” they mean two trillion, that means every man, woman, and child will be outnumbered 285 to one. We are now at the whim of these angry, confused bugs. If they catch wind of the power they can have over us, and decide to go from sounding like a lawnmower to acting like one, we will really be in trouble. Sure, The Rock and Jason Statham can handle more than their share, but my God what about Betty White and the remaining Greatest Generation? We can’t have Nanas trying to fend away almost 300 bugs per person.
All that is left to do now is put on a brave face, buckle up, and prepare for White-Hot Cicada Rage Summer.