Fark brings us a very heebie-jeeby-worthy entry with this cicada-related emergency room visit:

A man who cooked and ate nearly 30 cicadas sought medical treatment after suffering a strong allergic reaction to the sauteed insects.

And, in what must be a qualifier in the World's Biggest Understatement contest, we have this:

"He said they didn't taste too bad, but his wife didn't care for the aroma," said Dr. Al Ripani, the doctor who treated the man at Promptcare East.

Ellen, my Yankee sweetie, has acquired an unhealthy fascination with these weird bugs. Growing up in the South, they were just part of nature's summer jukebox to me, so it took a long time for me to understand that not only had she not ever seen one, she'd never heard one either. In building the development we live in, it would seem all the cicada larva got, well, moved out, so (at this point) we don't have any at all, so she still hasn't heard them. I expect that to change, but in the meantime I'm left with, "hear that high pitched thing, coming from the air conditioner? It's like that, only louder."

*blink* *blink*

"Nevermind."

But if I find one in the freezer, well, we're gonna have a talk.