The Wonderful World of Amoebae

I have a slight fascination with the amoeba.

This fascination, in fact, borders excessive fondness.

I may be the only person in the world who thinks amoebae are cute. Pretty, even.


Don't you just want to huggle it?

What's not to like about a unicellular organism that comfortingly wraps its arms around its prey as it is engulfed and torn apart by enzymes?

"There, there. This won't hurt a bit."

So infatuated am I with amoebae, I wrote a poem dedicated to them.  I'm also collaborating with a friend on a musical starring an amoeba. It's sure to be a Broadway hit.
 

Isn't it pretty? It's like a blob filled with... blobs.

I want a pet amoeba, but instead I have to make due with their cousin, Entamoeba gingivalis. Meet George and Ginger.

They live in my mouth.

But back to the amoeba.

Another part of the reason I like them is that they serve as nice excuses. When my Os come out not quite round, I just say, "Oh, that is a drawing of an amoeba. It's just a coincidence that it's followed by the last five letters of my name." And then I'm only five sixths embarrassed by the awfulness of my penmanship. 

Drawing amoebae gives insecure artists confidence in their ability.

Don't you want an amoeba too?

Credits and stuff: photo one  and three source, photo two source, photo four and five source, image six source.