Hindu women in Shirala, India bow before a “Nalla Pambu” (good snake), a symbol of fertility. Call it what you will, but no snake is a good snake to me. I don’t care if it eats rats. I’ll take rats over venomous snakes any day. Per wikipedia,
The Indian cobra’s venom mainly contains a powerful post-synaptic neurotoxin and cardiotoxin. The venom acts on the synaptic gaps of the nerves, thereby paralyzing muscles, and in severe bites leading to respiratory failure or cardiac arrest.
Good snake, my butt. That snake doesn’t give life; it takes it.
Look, ladies, I feel you on the infertility front. I’ve jabbed needles of Ovidrel in my belly, popped Clomid, and spent hours at the fertility clinic while they spin out the wonky husband samples to find the best and brightest swimmers. More than once. It was expensive and unsuccessful, and it can destroy a marriage. I’ve tried nearly everything under the sun. But never never would I get on my knees, prostrate and in striking range of a cobra.