[Rain Man]

On my way to work today, I noticed a small movement on the sidewalk. As I approached, I realized that it was a bug that had somehow gotten turned upside down. It was wiggling its little arms and legs (or maybe they're all legs) helplessly, but it had no chance of righting itself.

After a moment of thought, I moved my shoe to a strategic location, and flipped the bug. While there was some skidding involved that was probably less than pleasant, the bug eventually got turned upright.

The implications of this are profound from the bug's perspective. Think about it - due to some bad Darwinian design, you're doomed. You're upside down, your thorax is exposed, and your carapace is too heavy to right yourself. Spiders and ants and wasps are inevitably bearing down on you. Your life, all two weeks of it, are flashing before your compound eye stalks.

And then suddenly out of the blue, a giant being appears, so large that you can't even see the top of it. A massive, mountain-sized foot moves toward you. But instead of crushing you, it benevolently flips you back to safety and then disappears swiftly over the horizon.

People, this is how religions are born.

If you're that bug, you now believe that there's a giant being out there looking out for you. You love the giant being. The giant being is your friend.
You're going to preach that gospel to other bugs, and you're going to tell them not to buzz the giant beings. Don't fly into their noses, don't drown yourself in their drinks. You're going to convert other bugs with your story, and peace will come in our time. People and bugs will live together in harmony.

You're welcome.