This weekend I took my friend Frank to Picnic Day.  An annual event at my old school, UC Davis, Picnic Day invites alumni to walk around, eat food, and look at exhibits put on by students.

All I intended to do was eat and see a few friends, but then we found out about an exhibit I had never heard of before: maggot art.

Maggot art is sponsored by one of the biology departments.  The students and faculty observe while adults and kids use a tweezers, dip maggots into latex paint, and let them run around on paper, creating works of art:

The Maggot Art web page claims that no maggots are harmed during the making of these masterpieces, but Frank and I saw the kids pressing the tweezers too hard.

“My maggot isn’t moving,” a kid complained.

“He’s sleepy,” the science student said, retrieving the paint-covered maggot corpse and giving the child a new one.

No maggots harmed during the making of this art?  Give me a break.  And another eyewitness claims one of the kids ate his maggot.

Let’s face facts: Children are maggot killers. Everyone who has a child is unleashing the equivalent of maggot genocide upon the world.  Soon the entire environmental balance of the planet will be thrown off, thanks to these tiny, paint-slinging bug murderers.  I ask everyone to rethink this whole procreation thing before it’s too late.

(And I’m not just incensed about this issue because the kids hogged the maggots and Frank and I didn’t get a chance to make any art before the booth closed.)

We did, however, manage to go to the young democrats booth and get free sunscreen.  Only democrats hand out free sunscreen; republicans would be all “You forgot sunscreen so fend for yourself and learn a lesson for next time.” And, of course, they would be correct.  It didn’t help in my case anyway; I always forget how balding I am, and I forgot to slather up my widow’s peak. So there’s a section right at the edge of my hairline that got burned.  It looks like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’s half-submerged nose.

It was a nice day, although it’s interesting hanging out with Frank because I only know her because she started leaving comments on this blog.  Friends will ask me, “How do you know each other?”

And I forget that not everyone speaks geek: “I know her because she makes comments on my site.”

“What’s wrong with your sight? I thought you wear contacts.”