Exists here only due to a misspelling of the word "heat," though the topic of ant heat has already been discussed at great length in other installments. The sad owner of the thus disparaged ant heart comes rushing forward, demanding that it not be implicated in the writing of any tracts regarding sad ants. First of all, nobody said anything about sad ants, to be precise. And secondly, happy ants are so completely out of fashion that the mere mention of the phrase "happy ants" has already and continues to lower the value of this text, faster than it can write itself, faster than the accretion of more words more words more words that are added in a desperate attempt to dilute the effects of the phrase in question.
From the mouth of the ant, a scroll is officiously unrolled, revealing a
certain amount of fine print. And if I were more able-visioned, I would be able to make out exactly what those words said—but instead, I am filled with the dreadful knowledge that indeed all the crimes, sacrifices, and inequities of these last few moments are nothing, nothing to speak of, in comparison.