Why Does This Exist?

I’ve asked myself the above question quite a bit in my life, but never more than in the last year (I’m über-retrospective this week, have you noticed?), where my entire perception has changed in ridiculously dramatic ways.

For today’s version of WDTE, thorns are not just found on roses, as they are in the Northeast. (In fact, roses are not found.)

Thorns are found on everything.

I kid you not, even grass has thorns. Trees certainly have thorns. All plants have some variation with thorns. And, of course, even some of the animals have thorns. (Frogs and lizards are repeat offenders.)

Thorns haven’t made their way into Mexas home decor yet, or so I thought. But yesterday my little tootsie was rent asunder when I stepped on this monstrosity:

(off to the left, there)

Doesn’t look like much, I know, but I’ll give you some zoom-ins so you can appreciate my indignation. (2009, or Zoog, as I like to call it, seems to be shaping up as a banner year for indignation.)


And the money shot:


I’ve been told there’s a reason for everything. I would sincerely like a biologist to contact me and tell me what the reason for this thing could possibly be. Because it looks like an alien spore from across the galaxy, and the gaping hole in my foot feels like the start of world domination.

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7 thoughts on “Why Does This Exist?”

  1. Well, I can’t come up with anything witty in answer to that but I have to tell you that it made me laugh. That’s a good thing, retaining your sense of humor. And that is exactly what it looks like, your description…

  2. And wat a minute, I meant to say — where did you get that Instruction book? I never got one of those. This explains a lot.

  3. I think the biological explanation would be…well, world domination. As in, I am ThornPlant. I aggressively eject my spore. I will exhale pheromones and oxygen to lure some of those peculiar mobile red-sapped spore-carriers. My warrior sporelings will pierce their defenseless flesh, driving them to new galaxies. My many seedlings will flourish in the new paradise, harvesting the delicious carbon-dioxide exudation of the gibbering chattel. Or however you say that in Plant.

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