Friends, I present the Invertebrate of the Year.

From The Guardian, August 3, 2026:

It’s invertebrate of the year again! From August 3-12, every day we’ll be profiling one of the thousands of amazing invertebrates that our readers have nominated, and then, when you’ve got to hear about all of them, we’ll open the voting so you can choose your favourites. Don’t hesitate to get in touch with thoughts and ideas: email us at environment.desk@theguardian.com with Invertebrate in the subject line.

I’ll admit that it’s a perfect title for a rant about the Republican Party in general, but that circus is too rage-inducing for me to comment on publicly without receiving yet another visit from my friends at Homeland Security.

(I’m joking! I don’t have any friends at Homeland Security. You don’t either. Never forget that.)

I’ll also admit that you might need to be someone who is at a point in their life in which a new sponge delights them in order to fully enjoy the functions of the rolly poli, which has been nominated for the grand title of ‘Invertebrate of the Year.’

(I finally got one of those smiley-face sponges. Holy shit, that’s a good sponge. I’m not crazy about the creepy-looking smile the thing has after it washes the kitchen sink’s ass, but it is definitely a good sponge. If you ever sneaked out of bed when you were a kid and watched ‘Night Gallery’ late at night, you’ll probably want to keep it in the closet. Under a Bible.)

So, now that you know I’m thrilled over a sponge, you won’t be surprised to know how delighted I am to know there is an entire month dedicated to useful invertebrates, as long as you subscribe to The Guardian - and please, support them monetarily if you can.

I feel like the word ‘spineless’ is used without consideration of the fact that not all spineless things are worthless. I realize this is hard to grasp when you follow the political knob-gargling of the insipid idiots in the House of Representatives right now. Do know their behavior is way beyond spineless - this is a condition in which they have a spine and have willingly sacrificed it for the love of a gross, demented, rapist, pedophile with a pants full of poop.

We haven’t made up a word vile enough to describe that. I have a few suggestions, however, please refer to above information about Homeland Security and their special kind of interest. Kind of like a pedophile. They watch and wait until someone looks vulnerable and BAM…snatched up.

They’re nothing like the noble Woodlouse, which happens to be one of my most loved invertebrates and one of the few bugs I ever wanted to keep as a pet. Lightning bugs and rolly polis were the only things I had the guts to touch and trap in jars when I was young, and we played in the cave-grass with our pet dinosaur.

We also chased the DDT truck that was sent through our swampy neighborhood to keep the malaria mosquitoes at bay. Turns out, if you carry your jar full of lightning bugs and rolly polis with you when you run after the poison truck, they perish immediately. Also, does anyone else smell burning plastic all the time? Just wondering…

Even with my DDT brain damage I learned two really cool words while reading the woodlouse article, and I’m going to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to fit those words in to casual conversation.

conglobation -an animal rolling its body into a neat ball.

This is decidedly the most difficult of the two, unless I am talking about hedgehogs, armadillos, or me - coming out of anesthesia and being certain I have been birthed against my will. (“Mrs. Parker we cannot allow you to go home until you stop crying and begging for a DNR ‘do over.’ Please compose yourself. You had a wart removed, for fuck’s sake. Calm down.”)

detritrivore - animals that feed on dead particulate, organic (mostly plant) matter.

This obviously sounds like something Stephen Miller is related to by a dark, fetid blood-binding in the depths of hell, before it/he/whatever was unleashed on the world. It will be much easier to use, especially when I do choose to write raspberries to our dear leader and his cabinet of curiously cunty fruitcakes in poorly-fitted human suits.

Until then, I’m sticking with The Guardian and improving my vocabulary - and respect for useful invertebrates. Y’all be safe out there. Don’t chase the poison truck and don’t forget to turn it up.