Enemies of Humanity, Part III: Michael Phelps

Now you're asking (or if in the South, axing) yourself "what can this guy possibly have against Michael Phelps? He's untouchable right now - 8 gold medals, great smile, best athlete of maybe ever? How can he really classify him as an enemy to humanity?"

Well I'll tell you why - by being such a great swimmer he's drawing undue attention to dolphins (and other crappy aquatic creatures). Observe:

So Mr. Phelps, while I admire you and must say your 7th Medal Race was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever seen, I am very very happy that your portion of the olympics has ended. This way your freakish nature underwater will no longer be compared to dolphins, thus shedding further misguided light on their plight.

That was a good rhyme. Maybe I should be a rapper. Rap about dolphins with the same level of disrespect that say NWA rapped about the 5.0/police/fuzz/black and white/boys in blue/LA's finest, etc. Oh maybe a dolphin related poet.

Daylight
Shipborne motions as the sun crests the horizon
Ready at the grasp, the weighty spear
Dolphin blood flows
Across my hands and onto the deck.
Daylight.

YEAH - Take that shit, ee "i cant fucking capitalize" cummings. What a douche. I always wished ee cummings would get in a fight with TS Eliot. Eliot would fuck that schmuck's shit up, hardcore.

Brett Favre is a tool.

Dolphins are Front-Runners, and Man U Supporters.

I get it - you won the double. You're also the most arrogant group of fags ever. That's right, I'm talking to you, Manchester United supporters. More importantly I'm talking to Manchester United supporters who are not from Manchester. Most importantly, I'm talking to dolphin supporters of Manchester United. I hate it when you see a dolphin Man U follower, wearing a brand new scarf, an 07-08 kit and a faux Ronaldo hairdo, walking down the street with a swagger that just says "I am a world class douche." They have no knowledge of the subtlety of the game and yell the stupid "Glory, Glory Man United... Glory, Glory Man United..." over and over again. They're essentially perpetual frontrunners. I mean, if you even mention Eric Cantona, they'll think he was just an actor in a Cate Blanchett film.

Now let me add one disclaimer - I am an avowed New York Yankees fan, but I hate the Yankees frontrunner dolphin fans maybe more than I hate Red Sox fans. I understand that being the best attracts the best talent (A-Rod, Ronaldo) and the worst kind of fans (Dolphins, Dolphins) who with no knowledge of the nuanced nature of either game merely select that team which they hear the most about.

But since the only way dolphins "hear" of any sporting results is through anyone who accidentally drops a waterproof radio in the ocean, inevitably they will hear of Cristiano Ronaldo being gay, A-Rod being gay and both teams winning fucking everything, all the time. Except when United wins, Jesus is killed again. Because God is an Arsenal supporter. That and the Yankees suck this year.

So ultimately, what am I saying here? The worst pitcher in the history of baseball is a dolphin. It would make sense. Injury prone - check. Banged Alyssa Milano - check. Injury prone - check.

That's right, Carl Pavano is a dolphin. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Mmmm.... Both Are TASTY!

Dolphins Suck Because They Like Phish.

No, not Fish. That's a given. But dolphins are avid listeners of the (thankfully) defunct jam band, Phish. How often have you been stuck in Fairfield, CT behind a Subaru Legacy Outback Wagon replete with an ACK sticker, LAX decal, Middlebury College on the back window and that crappy Phish drawing on the bumper? I have many a time contemplated vehicular homicide while following this slowly swerving crappy boxer-engined tin box, training a cloud of smoke, and not from an oil leak, if you know what I'm talking about. Yeah. Drugs. So inevitably if you're with a dolphin, they'll try to work their affinity of Phish into a conversation.

"What about that war in Georgia? I mean, is this a resurgence of the Cold War as Russia asserts its power through leverage of natural gas, e-warfare and oil?"

"Yeah, man. Georgia... bummer. Reminds me of this one crunchy jam, dude. It was at the Clifford Ball- they fucking nailed Tweezer, covered fucking A Day in the Life, Possum and the fucking Tweezer Reprise."

"Did you even hear a word I said, you drug addled asshat?"

OK - so I enjoy the Allman Brothers when they're playing blues and Southern Rock, but when they get into that space drums crap, I tune out and go and get a beer. And as always, during that peacenik bullshit there's a dolphin standing up in the front, twirling and spinning and generally smelling unclean.

Once I was at a Bob Dylan concert - Bob Fucking Dylan - and this hippie dolphin chick with her disgusting batik dress was standing up, front row, spinning and twirling and bumping into people. But it was at a concert hall, thus auditorium style seating. Not a fucking outdoor festival where that behavior, while reprehensible still is at least marginally tolerated. Anyway, this dolphin bitch bumped into one too many people so much so that someone, I think my father, shouted "The Dead is broken up - this is Bob Dylan. Sit the fuck down." That's right, we harshed her mellow. Fucking see you next Tuesday.

It's funny how the best (non-classical) songwriters generally aren't the best musicians but excel at songwriting. Dylan is a passable guitarist, Keith Richards is nothing too special, the Beatles were mediocre at best - but their songwriting is vastly superior to say, Styx, Kansas, Steeley Dan - basically any of that 70s prog crap where there were, how you say, too many notes. Victor Wooten. When the revolution comes, he's the first against the wall. The bass is called the bass because it's THE FUCKING BASE OF THE FUCKING BAND - not a snap crackle and pop cacophony of bullshit.

So next time you see a dolphin get out of their hybrid to go into Whole Foods or a used bookshop, I implore you to 1. key the fuck out of the Toyota and 2. put a George W. Bush '08 sticker over the Phish decal.

This is the word.

The US Navy Has Let Me Down.... Again

I'm a fan of America's war machine. That's no secret. We have more aircraft carriers than Putin has vials of poison labeled with journalist's names. We google-map a place we want to bomb, press a couple buttons and 3 hours later... BLAM! Tomahawk Cruise Missile up your ass, Toronto! They didn't even know it was coming. But then our Navy, with their nancy white outfits and reluctance to venture south of 42nd street go and fall into disfavor. And all because of this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/13/us/13whales.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=sonar&st=cse&oref=slogin

SAN FRANCISCO (AP) — The Navy agreed in a settlement approved Tuesday to limit where it operates certain sonar systems criticized by environmentalists as a threat to whales and other marine mammals.

Let's read between the lines on that one - "other marine mammals". That's right. Fucking dolphins, again. So basically these jackass echo-location motherfuckers can't find their way around while our Navy's on the way to bomb Hiroshima again just for kicks? Honestly folks, they're fucking dolphins. They can't even make cool things like XBox360 or Jell-O pudding pops, so why should we really worry about hurting their precious little non-existent ears?

I'm thinking of a number between one and ten.... do you have it? If you guessed "go off the coast of Southern California in a trawler with underwater loudspeakers and a couple gross of grenades and cause permanent dolphin deafness," you guessed the right number.

In an open letter to the Secretary of the Navy, Truman Handy Newberry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truman_Handy_Newberry) I postulated that "the advent of underwater listening and detection devices are the wave of the future. Why that Marconi - have a look see at what he did! Furthermore, my good chap, have you looked into the aeroplane? Why with a brigade of these contraptions working hand-in-hand with the underwater devices, Teddy could hunt maritime game with the ease of an African Safari! Bully to that, I say. Now excuse me, kind sir, as I must take the 9:15 Pennsylvania Railroad locomotive to New York's shining star of Pennsylvania Station. Why a glorious work of that magnitude will last forever and become an icon of Mannahatta!* O! Grand city with your steam packets a'bustling, Irish cops a'hustling the negroes uptown and away from womanly eyes and only seventy-nine horse cart fatalities per afternoon! O! City of my youth! I return to thee!"

*{Hops in Doc Emmet Brown's time train, lands in shithole of an arena where Penn Station used to be, goes back in time and punches John Jacob Astor right in the beaver for good measure.}

IN MEMORIAM:

TRUMAN HANDY NEWBERRY
5 November 1864 - 3 October 1945
RIP - We'll miss you, dawg. Peace!

Enemies of Humanity, Part II: Jane Fonda

Hanoi Jane, Born Again Christian, The Former Mrs. CNN. There are many labels that can be applied to Ms. Fonda. Hippie, Dirty Hippie, Dirty Tree Hugging Hippie. While not forthcoming on her pro-dolphin stance, I can only assume that her hatred of everything awesome (bombing things, explosions, kick-ass wars, bombing things) would peg Jane firmly in the "I just want to hug them, they're like slippery people" camp. So, Ms. Fonda, I implore you to issue a statement apologizing to Vietnam Veterans across the country and to me in particular for not issuing a statement on your opinions vis-a-vis dolphins. I should hope that this statement will negate your years of mistrust for the Federal Government, the Armed Forces and help us as a nation to begin the healing process. Also buy more Vietnamese Nike Airs. Those tiny little fingers really do a bang-up job on my Air Maxx Extreme Dunk Jordan LeBrons.

Now on a completely related note. I have been spending my free time (when not spearing and/or shotgunning dolphins - not shotgunning like a can of beer, but actually shooting with a physical shotgun) fabricating from parts lying around the house/nuclear power plant a time machine. Several purposes for the time machine:

1. Go back to the evolutionary point where that first dog-like creature decided to become semi-aquatic and then kill it - sort of the John Conner of dolphins - I guess that makes me the T800. No wait, that one failed. The T1000 then. No, he ended up melting. "What's the dog's name?" "Max." "Ginelle, how's Wolfie?" "Wolfie's fine dear - where are you?" "Your foster parents are dead."

2. Go back to last November and punch myself in the fucking trachea for even being attracted to that dirty skank of a whore.

3. Go back to say, eh, 1969 and BANG THE HELL OUT OF JANE FONDA. Dayum, bitch was fucking hot.



And again:



To Hayden Panettiere: I know Jane Fonda and I served with Jane Fonda and you Ma'am are no Jane Fonda.I have to go now... {grabs tissue paper}.

A Nice Country Sabbatical

I've been incommunicado of late as I went upstate to my family home or as I like to call it, "Further Inland". Further Inland to escape the soggy tentacles of dolphin nefariousness. Yes, they have tentacles now, Virginia. While Further Inland I watched this film that really opened my eyes. Apparently it was about a group of ruffians who really stood for something and I'd like to gain membership to their club. They're called the People Against Goodness and Normalcy and they wear these nifty outfits entailing goat fur leggings. Anyway, my friend Emil Muzz told me about them and they sacrifice things in a crazy awesome ceremony. If I can get them to sacrifice dolphins instead of the Virgin Connie Swail, I think we're going to be on the right path. I also wish this group had a catchy nickname or acronym, because People Against Goodness and Normalcy is just really long and cumbersome - doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Maybe like PeAGooN'cy. I like that - it's got the word "GooN" in it which sort of emphasizes the nihilistic, anti-god context within which this group operates. What's another word for "Godless"? I wish there were a word like that.

Now that I'm back on an island with only bridges and tunnels as my sole escape routes should a dolphin led land invasion occur, I've got to admit - a little nervous. Hold on, more soon - my friend Pep Streebeck is on the phone.

Bendy Straws, 1 - Dolphins, 0

An environmentally hippie-dippie co-worker told me that whenever she walks along a beach, she picks up transparent plastic garbage under the auspices of saving the fucking dolphins because it does something bad to them that I would love to imagine. With that in mind, I'm taking the LIRR to Long Beach with a back pack full of Glad Brand Sandwich Bags, those McDonald's two-beverage holder bags and 3,000 bendy straws. The reasoning? Straws in particular are supposed to (according to the interwebs, which never lies) get lodged in the dolphin blowhole thus suffocating them. You ever see that happen with gills? Hells no, bitch. Because fish got it made. They're supposed to be underwater because, THEY CAN BREATH UNDERWATER. Idiotic dolphins due to their evolutionary backtracking have to surface to breath our precious O2 and in the process often get things stuck in their air slot. Just think of this for your next SAT:

Dolphin : Bendy Straw :: Richard Gere : ?

File This Under: I Told You So!!!

Ahh, the liberals. Always hugging trees, raising taxes, driving Prii (plural of Prius?) and worst of all, saving the dolphins. Susan Sarandon, part of the liberal royalty along with her male consort, Sir Tim of Robbins has a penchant for saving the earth and protesting awesome things like nukes and bombs and their guns and their bombs, zombie, zombie, zombie. In their hands, yes in their hands they are fighting for the rights of the little (read: poor) folk whilst jetting to Jackson Hole to have sushi 3,423 miles from the nearest ocean. In the interest of saving all of the world's animals, Ms. Sarandon and Timothy "The Walls Are Bleeding, Again" Leary went swimming with the beasts a couple years ago. While swimming with a male dolphin named Joe (even dolphins lack creativity in naming themselves), his jealous mate attacked the fuck out of Ms. Bull Durham.

Reports Page Six: "After he trusted me more, I took hold of Joe's fin and we glided around the tank together. Then Joe stopped swimming horizontally and pushed up against me. I thought the whole experience was just groovy until I felt this horrible pain on my wrist, which was holding Joe's fin.

"I could hear them (researchers) shouting, 'No, Rosie! Don't!' I looked over and Joe's mate, this huge dolphin I hadn't even noticed before, was virtually standing up right out of the water, towering over me on its rear fins. She seemed to be 12 feet tall, emitting this loud, high-pitched noise. The attendants were screaming, 'We've got to get you out!' I was afraid I was going to get my other arm broken."

OK. Let's do a play-by-play analysis of this clusterfuck:

1. You're swimming with dolphins, in a tank. OK - what if the ammunition gets wet? Then how are you going to fire a 120mm smoothbore sabot encased depleted uranium armor piercing round at the dolphins with wet ammo?

2. The experience was... was... I actually am having a problem typing this... "just groovy"? How the fuck did this outdated vernacular make it past the 80s, let alone all the way to 2006?

3. Rosie, like Samantha or Lindsay - clearly this is a lesbian name, therefore a lesbian dolphin. She just wanted a piece of that hot Rocky Horror Picture era Sarandon, but when she got close, she echo-located and found instead the elderly version, got pissed and went McGruff the crime dog on that ass.

4. Yeah - 12' tall, terrifying high pitched shrieks of death? Basically, at certain points, dolphins can turn into Nazgul. Remember the first time you read The Fellowship of the Ring? Of course you don't. You weren't a flaming nerd who got gleecked upon in Middle School. So I'll dumb it down a little bit: Remember the first time you saw The Fellowship of the Ring and the Black Riders of Mordor (the aforementioned Nazgul) stood atop that elevated road while Frodo, Samwise, Merry and Pippin cowered beneath the roots of the tree? That was pretty freaking terrifying, huh? Well dolphins can pretty much do that - IN REAL LIFE! Not the imaginary world of a Cambridge Linguistics Scholar, but real flesh and blood they'll chew your fucking arm off life.

So, Ms. Sarandon. Your dirty hippie ways have finally come full circle. Those you wish to protect will only destroy you.

VOTE McCAIN!

Dolphins Are Subpar Bartenders

Customer service is a dying breed - that we can all agree on. The era of the friendly bartender who has your pint of Guinness half drawn by the time you enter is nearly over. Whether you are frequenting your local Starbucks, Home Depot or Mortuary, it is nearly impossible to find a competent employee behind the bar, power tools desk or that little table to sign condolences who really knows what their business is. How often have we all suffered from an incorrectly made latte, the improper Sawzall for the job or a Noble 18 Gauge Steel brushed monarch blue finished, blue velvet lined casket when we really wanted a a mocha, circular saw or Regent brushed heritage bronze finish, almond velvet interior coffin? Too often, I say.

Further exacerbating this problem is the recent proliferation of dolphins in the service industry. While passable as bar backs and bussers, mediocre as waitstaff and tolerable as maitre d', the recent influx of dolphin bartenders has set our cause back decades. For one, having dolphins handle our precious, precious booze is sacrilege in the first place - who knows what kind of diseases they carry? Secondly, they don't remember faces, names or drinks - very important skills for bartenders. On the off chance that they do remember your drink, they're going to get it wrong. That's a guarantee. Ask for a Mind Eraser, end up with a B-52. Come to think of it, I'd like a Mind 52. It will probably wash down that horrible Manhattan that the Amazon River Dolphin bartender at Flannery's just made me. You would think an Irish pub would hire an Irish person, or at least Scottish as bartenders, but an Amazon River Dolphin? That just does not compute. 2x2=4. Now that computes.

So in addition to getting the drinks wrong on a criminal basis, the dolphin's small flipper just cannot handle a properly shaken martini, inevitably spilling on several patrons. Their abuse of the bar gun for constantly watering themselves down for fear of dessication is disgusting and off-putting to patrons. And their bar-side chatter - you know your local bartender, right? "How's the craic, boy?" Ahhh, well, I could be better, my girl just hooked up with another guy in front of me. "I'm sorry to hear that. You were better than her anyway... How's a pint and a Jameson sound?" You know what, that sounds great. Just what the doctor ordered.

Now let's replace the above Irish stereotype with a dolphin, for roleplaying's sake:

"Chirp Chirp Pip Pip Pip Clikakakakakaka Click Eeep!" Um, I'm not really sure what you said but if it's how I'm doing, well, sorta bad... you see my girl jus - "Eee eee eee ee eeee eee brrrrrrrrrrr!" Thanks for interrupting me buddy. I guess I'll have a Tullamore Dew and - "Click Click Ererererererereeek!" Um, I guess I'm going to take my business elsewhere unless you serve me a fucking drink, right now. {Bartender plays with ball, eats fish, warns of child stuck in buoy}.

OK - that never happened to me because I don't frequent the type of places a dolphin would be bartending. They're usually not at friendly neighborhood bars. Instead they usually work a W Hotel Bars or places with names like "Exit", "Libation", "k@rma" or "The Douche Factory". Since my visual aesthetic involves dark wooden walls and mirrors and not red leather divans and bottle service, I am unlikely to encounter the terrible service afforded by these creatures. Unless I were on a business trip and had to entertain prospects. But since my business trips most often involve amphibious armored personnel carriers and 7.62mm ammunition to terminate the dolphin menace, it won't actually happen.

Now for your viewing pleasure, Brian Flanagan:

Too Much Today! Dolphin Overload!

Now they're even stealing our women. I can't even write about this without thinking for a long time...

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10694972/

WHAT.
THE.
FUCK.
IS.
WRONG.
WITH.
THIS.
WOMAN?

With this herring I thee wed

British woman ‘marries’ dolphin, tying the net after 15-year courtship

NBC VIDEO

Woman 'marries' dolphin Jan. 3: Sharon Tendler, an eccentric British millionaire, married the love of her life — a 35-year-old dolphin named Cindy — at an Israeli resort.

updated 2:48 p.m. ET, Tues., Jan. 3, 2006

JERUSALEM - Sharon Tendler met Cindy 15 years ago. She said it was love at first sight. This week she finally took the plunge and proposed. The lucky "guy" plunged right back.

In a modest ceremony at Dolphin Reef in the southern Israeli port of Eilat, Tendler, a 41-year-old British citizen, apparently became the world's first person to "marry" a dolphin.

Dressed in a white dress, a veil and pink flowers in her hair, Tendler got down on one knee on the dock and gave Cindy a kiss. And a piece of herring.

---

It's not a perverted thing. I do love this dolphin. He's the love of my life," she said Saturday, upon her return to London.

Tendler, who said she imports clothes and promotes rock bands in England, has visited Israel several times a year since first meeting the dolphin.

When asked in the past if she had a boyfriend, she would always reply, "No. I'm going to end up with Cindy." On Wednesday, she made it official, sort of. While she acknowledged the "wedding" had no legal bearing she did say it reflected her deep feelings toward the bottlenosed, 35-year-old object of her affection.

"It's not a bad thing. It’s just something that we did because I love him, but not in the way that you love a man. It's just a pure love that I have for this animal," she said.

While she still kept open the option of "marrying human" at some stage, she said for now she was strictly a "one-dolphin woman."

She's hardly the jealous type, though.

"He will still play with all the other girls there," she said, of their prenuptial agreement. "I hope he has a lot of baby dolphins with the other dolphins. The more dolphins the better."

News Flash! News Flash! New Dolphin Discovered! I'm Sharpening My Knives!

So the French discovered a new dolphin and boy is it HIDEOUS. And the results of google translator are hilarious!

BIODIVERSITY, YES. The ESTHETIQUE, NO.

A new species of dolphin (ugly)

Researchers say they have identified a new species of dolphin off the coast of Australia. With his head in boxing glove, the beast is not very attractive.

Here's the link to the full video in French. I highly recommend translating the comments below the video, as er, something was lost in translation.

http://www.libelabo.fr/2008/08/04/une-nouvelle-espece-de-dauphin-moche/

So You Want to Date a Dolphin?

If you answered yes to that question, I have a truck for you to get in the back of. Don't worry where it's going, we're going for a ride! Come on, come on boy! Wanna go for a ride? Yes you do! Yes you do! {the truck goes to Malmedy - Google it}.

But let's say, hypothetically speaking as a mental exercise that you do want to actually date a dolphin. What a social minefield you have entered, my friend.

Step 1. You see the dolphin of your dreams.

You know the feeling. You're at a party, talking to someone about who went to Columbia University about how many drugs they did because "like, man, New York was my campus and I'd go clubbing all the time as a freshman" and all you're thinking of is a slow death. Then that girl, or in this case, dolphin comes in the party and all of a sudden it's like Wayne's World and "Dream Weaver" is playing and her hair, er dorsal fin is swaying in soft focus. How do you talk to her? How to make that connection...

Step 2. Making contact

Click click pop buzzzz eeee eeee eeee eeee eeee click click twittttterrrr

Step 3. The first date

You pick a fancy (but not too fancy, because that's pretentious) restaurant slash aquarium to take her out to. Since girls always want what they can't have, hold the fish just a liiitttttllee bit higher than they can jump. She'll be wrapped around your finger.

Step 4. The first kiss

Seriously, if you're contemplating that, you're so so so gross. I just puked. Not even in my mouth a little bit. I mean all over the keyboard.

Step 5. Going the distance

Two words: blow hole

Step 6. She leaves you for another man/dolphin/wildebeast

So you know in movies where the "hero" is dumped by the girl of his dreams for another superficially cooler guy and you know that she'll be back by the end of the film? Well that's not how it works in real life. The hero inevitably says to the cooler guy who stole his girl "break her heart and I'll kill you" or "treat her poorly and I'll rip your head off" to show that he's the one who really cares. NOT REAL LIFE. In real life, this girl was not Stolen, she consciously ran off to another guy. In which case the "hero" (ie, LOSER) should instead say: "Treat Her Poorly" or "Break Her Heart" because frankly, this guy is doing you a favor by crushing her soul when she didn't even give you the opportunity to do so.

Step 7. Recovery and Moving On

Reminds me of an old baseball joke - What was Mickey Mantle's favorite inning? The bottom of the fifth. That's right - Recovery equals drinking heavily. So much so that should an Eastern European ask for directions to a club and you give it to him and then he steals your cellphone, you're too drunk to chase after him. And you're wearing flip-flops. In the rain. And you had just fallen face first into a bar window thus are bleeding from the head. This happened to a guy I once knew. What a loser.

Step 8. A new beginning.

STOP DATING WHORES OR DOLPHINS...

The.... End (???)

Dolphin Literature - Let's Just Say - Not Gonna Make it in the New Yorker...

Dolphin writers have long been known for their gross ineptitude. Lack of tact, horrible metaphors and let us not even get started on grammatical errors. The slippery bastards think they're so smart and so clever in their "plot twists" and "simile" and "paragraphs". But in all actuality, they basically write akin to a hackneyed Hemingway. First person narrative with simplistic sentence structure focusing on the general ennui of life. Ohhh! I've never ever heard of anyone else write like that. So innovative! So creative! I'm pretty sure that Dave Eggers is thus actually a dolphin. He's so risque! He admits to not using a condom during sex and puts pictures of staplers on random pages. How tongue in cheek! Huzzah for you, my good man, er, dolphin. "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Drowning in My Own Vomit". There, see how I fixed that for you?

Frankly, the dolphin literary world would be better served were they to avoid the classics like Dickens and Bronte, continue studying the canon of American authors like Fitzgerald and Rand but in all actuality focus upon the greatest writer of our generation. The author of such seminal lines as:

"Gozer the Traveler. He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!"

AND

"You have been a participant in the biggest interdimensional cross rip since the Tunguska blast of 1909!"

That's right. Dan Aykroyd is the most important writer of all time. Can you write like that, dolphins? I think not. Can you write, Dave Eggers? I think not.

Touche! Victoire! I win! I win!

No!!! They're Doing it All Wrong!

Please please please, Boycott Sea Life Park in Hawaii, posthaste. In the idiotic desire to boost sales, they sped up evolution in the wrong direction by creating a dolphin slash false killer whale hybrid called, stupidly enough, the Wolphin. Retarded name, I know. But here's the real problem. I'm no Steve Darwin, but I know enough about evolution to know that something with the best traits of two species will inevitably be more resistant to disease through combination of gene pools. Now in the cases of things like mules, I think they're infertile. But the wolphin is fertile. Which means it can potentially escape its confines and breed a new army of wolphin super soldiers. It would be like we actually let Kurt Russel out of his electro-magnetic prison that keeps his bad ass in check and we released Chuck Norris from the steel island in the middle of a volcano's magma pool that ensures his isolation from society as a whole and they got together and somehow one of them turned into a woman and then they got together and did it and then their spawn was displayed in a zoo for entertainment of badassery but then escaped to the wild and started impregnating female action stars like Kate Beckinsale or Rose McGowan or Bea Arthur and then their offspring rose to the highest echelons of mankind's leadership and we were all placed under the heels of their kick ass jackboots.

Just like that, except with wolphins. Don't believe me? Here's a completely unaltered wikipedia entry:

The first captive wholphin was born on May 15, 1985 where a female bottlenose dolphin named Punahele and a male false killer whale named Tanui Hahai shared a pool. The wholphin's size, color and shape are intermediate between the parent species. Named Kekaimalu, she has 66 teeth - intermediate between a bottlenose (88 teeth) and false killer whale (44 teeth) as well as directly intermediate in ammunition capacity - while the bottlenose is capable of 300 rounds of 30mm ammunition, the false killer whale can hold up to 500 rounds yielding a 400 round capacity for the Wolphin.

crap.

Now for some reason I'm stuck in italics. So now it's going to look like I'm quoting someone. In fact, that's how I'll roll with that. Everything contained forthwith is a quote from the Encyclopaedia Britannica, New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Perez Hilton, so clearly the whole thing is true. So citing the above article, one can only assume that the -


OH MY GOD - I'm watching a children's cartoon about these kids who can turn into dinosaurs and they're at a concert and papier machete dolphins are part of the props on stage and they fall towards the band. So needless to say one of the kids has to turn into a dinosaur to save the singer, named Krissy Krash, from the falling artificial dolphins. I'm not making this up. I'm literally watching this right now on CBS channel 2 because I don't have cable. Here's the show. It's completely retarded: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dino_Squad.

OK - back to the Wolphin threat - basically they'll combine the ammunition capacity nearer to the less-aggressive false killer whale which is really quite gentle (but still must be exterminated) with the blood-thirsty violence of the bottlenose, the acknowledged ring leader in dolphin vs. human killings.

Sorry - I got completely sidetracked by the fact that even fake dolphins in cartoons are inherently killers. Geez. Nowhere is safe. Or is it Now Here is Safe? Or is it Help I Snow Here? Remember that one? It figured out if you were A) Optimist, B) Pessimist or C) Wiseass. Guess which one I got...