The Ant-Assassination. Or on Fund-Raising.

I could still use more money for the running of this blog.  If you have not yet given and have extra coins, consider funding me.  After all, where else can you get the whining and the gloominess and the sighing and the moaning, day after day?  I keep you firmly planted to the ground.

On the ant-assassination:   My defense is that it was involuntary antslaughter.  I opened the refrigerator door, and there it was, in the rubber seal of one door that hits the carcass of the fridge when the door closes, to tightly grasp the corresponding rubber seal: 

A squashed ant, looking like the corpse from one of those violent cartoons where a truck rolls over the duck, the duck is ironed into a flat shape, and then rises up from the dead and goes on quacking.

The poor ant will not rise from the dead*, and I felt bad because I must have murdered it.  On the other hand, it was trying to get into the fridge which had no ant-food at all and which legally belongs to me and not the Ant Hill On the Premises.  I think I plead self-defense or the defense of private property when I appear in front of the Ant Court.
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*But perhaps it does?  Or reincarnates?  No way of telling.