Hello folks who wonder if tossing and turning in bed during sleep should count as exercise,
We act like we’re always on stage. Every morning we step out into a world that never turns off.
We take pictures of our lattes before drinking. We pose for meals no one else will taste. We make heart signs, tilt our heads, pout, and shoot from the most flattering angle. We pick desserts not for flavor but for how they’ll look in a photo. Food becomes a prop. Experiences become content. Living and documenting are the same thing now. Between the filter and the upload, the performance feels like life.
We’ve decided this is normal — that we must show constant proof we’re having fun, that our lives look bright and perfect.
If you ever go against the grain—do something your followers don’t agree with—you’ll get labeled with the C-word.
That's right: they'll call you "crazy." Voice an unconventional opinion—suggest that shoestring fries are fundamentally inferior to waffle fries—and you'll start getting death threats and have the police called to check on your well‑being.
While humans might seek mental health counseling over such internet criticism, these ants are completely unaffected by how society perceives them.
And now, introducing "Longhorn Crazy Ants." Confetti rains down from above.
But hang on—before we continue, let's look at the behavior of sane ants. They walk in a single file, as shown below.
But these longhorn crazy ants do not follow the rules set by traditional ant societies. They live life on their own terms, and in this case, wander in random directions instead of following each other in a single file.
The first time I saw them, I had to shout "Gurrl you crazzyy!!"
They're called "longhorn" ants because of their long antennae, which reminded people of Texas Longhorn cattle.
During my trip to India, the Madagascar Periwinkle was one of the most common ornamental plants I saw in gardens. Because of their toxicity, most mammals don't eat them, so they survive well.
One thing I noticed was that all these plants were always swarming with crazy ants. I've covered this in previous blog posts—"Well, that's an ANTi-traditional approach" and "And you thought Amazon treats its warehouse workers poorly": why ants swarm certain plants. The reason is that ants "milk" aphids for their sugary secretions and provide them protection in return.
But that's not what was happening here. There were no aphids to be found. It turns out the plant figured out it could cut out the middleman—the aphids—and pay the ants directly for protection instead of subsidizing both the aphids and the ants.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed the plant producing tiny sugar bubbles from its fruit pods.
That's when I caught the ant in the act.
If you thought the first one was a fluke, here's another.









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