2. "Grasshoppers feasting on Southeast Arizona crops, gardens. Walking through fields on a farm near Cascabel as it teemed with grasshoppers was like 'parting the Red Sea.'... After the strong 2016 monsoon season, more grasshoppers survived and were able to lay their eggs in pods in the ground when winter arrived, usually between 20 and 200 eggs depending on the species... 'I keep thinking the cold weather will take them down,' Cardona said. 'They’re still here.'"
CC http://www.birdphotos.com
3. "Grasshopper Cannabis Kiosks Make a Splash at the [National Cannabis Industry Association] Show.... The Grasshopper product line includes a Self-Service Kiosk that can efficiently dispense up to 60 unique SKU's via a large high-definition touchscreen display menu - making it a powerful tool for dispensaries to promote and sell their most popular products, including flower, concentrates, accessories and vaporizers."
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Rather than thinking no one saw the grasshopper for 128 years, perhaps the original was switched out and that is a forgery from one of those Chinese painting mills that crank out sofa art. A find like that would make me confirm its authenticity.
From Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rolvag, the greatest novel of the Norwegian emigration to America's Great Plains.
Who would dare affirm that this plague was not of super-
natural origin? During the spring season, and throughout
the early part of the summer, the air would be as pure and
clear as if it had been filtered, wrapping and caressing the
body like the finest silk, the sky would be as blue as if it had
been scoured and newly painted, everything planted in the
ground by man would grow as if by magic, filling out with
an amazing fruitfulness, as the long warm days passed in
endless array, until it bent under its own burden. And
then, just as the process of ripening had begun, or perhaps
a little before, the plague would descend upon them, sud-
denly, mysteriously, disastrously. On a certain bright,
sunny day, when the breeze sighed its loveliest out of the
northwest, strange clouds would appear in the western sky,
swiftly they would advance, floating lazily through the clear
air, a sight beautiful to behold But these clouds would be
made up of innumerable dark-brown bodies with slender
legs, sailing on transparent wings, in an instant the air would
be filled with nameless, unclean creatures — legions on
legions of them, hosts without number. Now pity the fields that
the hand of man had planted with so much care.
And the ruthless marauders invariably came out of the clear
northwest where the afternoon glow was brightest, most
marvellous, more than often toward evening, when the day
was sinking to rest and all earth seemed at peace, they would
come To these wandering Norsemen, the old adage that
all evil dwells below and springs from the north, was proving
true again.
Grasshopper goes into a pub and hops up onto the bar.
Bartender looks at him and says: “You know, we have a drink named after you.”
Grasshopper says: “You have a drink named Larry?”
David Carradine is still dead.
There.
I am Laslo.
"Do you hear the grasshopper, which is at your feet?"
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