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Category: animals

Here’s To You, Mr. Help An Atlantic Right Whale Out

Here’s To You, Mr. Help An Atlantic Right Whale Out

(Click anywhere on the text to see the embedded video, then click on the start button. There’s no thumbnail because it’s hosted on Vimeo, and Vimeo sucks) 

Two sport fishermen were out on the ocean, and spotted an Atlantic right whale cruising by, all tangled up in a rope. Right whales aren’t hunted any more, but there aren’t many of them around, and they still are in danger of being killed by boats hitting them, and entanglements like this one. Eventually the rope would probably cut right through their flesh. Adrian and Pat to the rescue!

No one would admit it, but it’s the same sort of person that helps a distressed animal in this fashion as the fellows that used to hunt them. They’re both a bit daring, and both knew and respected the animal, and valued it for its worth. It used to be worth a lot to a person to have its blubber and oil and ambergris and corset stays, and now it’s worth more to make our world that much more interesting by its very existence. People complaining outside a KFC never met a chicken, in my experience.

Dear Savior, What A Fargin Loon

Dear Savior, What A Fargin Loon

I was half expecting him to say he goes home to Starla every evening.

There’s something about a fellow volunteering to be a human crash test dummy without the crash I find appealing, of course. Check the masthead. And damn if he can’t stab trees near to death, or at least the slow-moving ones. But I have a sneaking suspicion that his suit is of no use in research into grizzly bear behavior, because they must see this guy coming and whisper whoo boy, what a fargin’ loon under their salmon-flavored breath, and pretend they hear their mother calling them and shamble off, before they catch the crazy from him.

That’s before they even get a glimpse of his interplanetary, extraordinary, weapons-grade mullet and porn stache. Nothing could withstand the hirsute firepower he brings.

(Thanks to Gerard at American Digest for bodyslamming that into my inbox)

I’m James Three-Toed Kirk, Baby!

I’m James Three-Toed Kirk, Baby!

I’m a three-toed sloth, and I’ve fallen out of my tree into a speedboat.

Good god, I’m Neil Armstrong and Conan the Barbarian rolled into one. I’m Pizarro and Magellan and that Cabot fellow that couldn’t figure out how to spell his name. I’m the love child of Perseus and Usain Bolt. I am master of all I survey. I go where I please, and strike where I please, like the most ferocious Bedouin warrior. I am the king of my kind. An emperor! A god!

I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how this machine works. I don’t know what these strange, hairless creatures are, or what they want with me. But I do know one thing for certain: It will take a very long, long time to walk home.