Why are cockroaches so ugly?

What could possibly be attractive about a cockroach, with its dark hard shell that cracks when you tread on it, its long antennae that creepily shift back and forth, its spindly legs that hurriedly move as you chase it and, most revoltingly of all, its papery wings that fly at you?

I've had friends tell me to just think of them as scarab beetles, the sacred bugs of Egyptian lore. 

Sorry, can't see it. Scarab beetles seem to have a mythological magic that is, quite frankly, lost on the lowly cockroach. But, is it really true that they are the only creature in the world that would survive a nuclear war?

If it is, I guess you have to admire them for their resilience, which leads me to believe that I can perhaps find something to admire in most of the creatures I dislike in the world.

The blow fly is another particularly distasteful creature, with its persistent and annoying buzz, a menace to the ears, large bug eyes and hairy, black body. At least they're slow, so are easy to whack on the head with a fly swat. But, do I really need to harm these harmless creatures simply because they annoy me? Let me see if I can refrain from the swat for the rest of summer.

The Indian myna bird, with its black feathers slicked back atop a pointy head, reminiscent of a sleazy male with oily hair, would have to be the scourge of the bird world. I saw two of these birds peck a baby bird to death recently, like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds. It's difficult to find love in your heart for a murderer. Yet, am I too quick to judge? Have I missed a natural law here, an agressive play for territory perhaps? Human or beast (sometimes it's difficult to tell), we don't respond well when the place where we rest our weary bones is threatened. 

Human being, with its ability to stand upon two legs, talk (supposedly rationally) and think (on occasion) is the creature that I have, at times in my life, experienced the strongest feelings of dislike for, with its dark glint in the eye, curled lip, arrogant stagger, penchant for power, obscene greed and callous cruelty. 

However, I am not a misanthrope. My species equally amazes me and I am often touched at the tender and gentle moments exchanged between us that arise not from a sense of duty but from a heart that knows love. 

Right now, as flawed and tragic as I am, I do have the space to breathe, the time to think (two of life's greatest gifts). Right now, I can choose love. But can I choose it in the next moment, the one after, the one after that...? That's the tricky bit. To keep my heart open in the face of life's imagined fears and perceived injustices. To keep it open next time I see an ugly cockroach, an annoying blow fly or a pestilent Indian myna bird cross my path. 

Wish me luck!