Dolphins are the stupidest animals on Earth. Although their brains are bigger than humans’ brains, not one dolphin has yet discovered how to make fire or invented the wheel. Modern dolphins evolved over ten million years before modern humans did and they have not learned such basic skills as flint knapping or parallel parking. Believe it or not, these morons can’t even figure out how not to swim into tuna nets. Even a dog knows to go the other way when a big net is coming and their brains are much smaller than dolphin brains. Even a cockroach would try to get a way, but not a dolphin. The other day, I saw a dolphin and said, “Dumb-ass dolphin says click-click-squeak,” and the idiot went “click-click-squeak”. Despite my general respect for the late, great author Douglas Adams, his claim that dolphins were the second most intelligent animals on Earth was way off base, although I do agree that dolphins are stupider than mice. Have you ever seen a mouse get its nose stuck in the ring of a plastic six-pack can carrier? Of course not. Mice aren’t complete dullards.
A dolphin can’t even solve a base-2 Sudoku Puzzle. I began to pose this little logic quiz to a dolphin just last week. “Assume that these two statements are true: I poison every fish I touch. I am now holding a tasty looking fish in my hand and dangling it over your dolphin tank.” Before I finished the last part where I ask the dolphin if the statement that the fish in my hand is poisoned is true or false, the half-witted cretinous beast jumped out of the water, did a reverse somersault and ate the damned fish right from my hand. “What an imbecile,” I said as I laughed and pointed at it twitching in the throws of a terrible death and added, “Dolphins are such boneheads.” These are creatures that once walked on land and made a conscious decision to go back into the ocean where they could swim in their own urine and feces. Dolphins? More like dolt-fins and I bet not one of these numskull cetaceans will even post a comment under this entry to disagree. – The Knave
Tags: Dolphins, Mice
There are many things in the world that are so similar, it is tough to differentiate between them: like identical twin brothers (look for a facial mole) or reptiles and samurai (Reptiles have silly grins, dark eyes, and shiny teeth. Samurai smile never, are serious and have pretty swords). I have a problem when it comes to mice and dolphins.
I saw dolphins on vacation in Sea World. Their shrieking voices were so annoying and horribly shrill. Who would want to see an animal make that awful noise? The piercing, echoing ring stayed in my head for awhile, but it eventually faded and I did not think about it again until we got home from vacation. Upon returning, we discovered these little black seed-like things all over our kitchen counters and some packages of my Teddy Grahams had what looked like bite marks out of the corners. My parents told me that we had visitors. I did not know what they were, but when I heard the shrieking sound come from behind the stove, I was instantly transported back to the dolphin sounds at Sea World. From that, I concluded that it must be mini-dolphins that had infiltrated our home. I could see that my parents were annoyed with the sound as much as I had been. It had to be dolphins.
Later on, my parents came home from the store without any candy for me, but with some kind of trap to catch the dolphins. The traps had an animal printed on them that did not look like the dolphins I had seen at Sea World. But as I had never seen a mini-dolphin, I figured they might look like this cartoon image. Since the dolphins ate fish at Sea World, and I knew these dolphins would too, so my mom let me bait the trap with sardines.
I sat there for what seemed like hours, and waited to see if the dolphins would come out to take the bait. Those sneaky little dolphins! One would scamper out, nibble a little of the sardine, squeak a bit, and scamper away without setting the trap off. These dolphins were just as smart as the Sea World dolphins. I remember the Sea World dolphins would jump up out of the water and eat the fish right off a high hanging string without getting hooked, and they too would shriek as they tumbled acrobatically back into the water.
A couple of days went by and no traps were set off. These mini-dolphins were beginning to become as annoying as the Sea World dolphins. You see, at Sea World, I went down the fish tank to shake the dolphin’s flipper, and it pulled a fast one on me! Instead of shaking my outreached hand, it slapped the water, drenching me with the yucky poo water that it swims in. I was totally embarrassed as everyone in the arena was laughing, including my mom and dad. In a very similar way, the mini dolphins made a fool out of me by eating through my package of Starbursts that I put on the counter for safe keeping. The dolphins did not eat the whole package, but instead they nibbled a bit out of each piece. My mom laughed at me again, but then sternly forbade me to finish the Starbursts (not to mention the “wasted” Teddy Grahams we threw away) because apparently “the pests might carry bacteria.”
So you can imagine my glee when we finally caught a mini-dolphin in a trap. But my happiness turned to sadness when I saw how cute the little dolphin was that I just killed (despite the fact that its eyes were bugging out of its head from the metal lever that had crushed its spine). A little chunk of sardine still preciously hung from its slack jawed mouth. But I did not let myself feel bad because it had eaten my Starbursts and Teddy Grahams. I remembered back to Sea World, storming out of the dolphin arena, seeing all the pictures of dolphins caught in fisherman’s nets, and the propaganda preaching about how we should feel bad for them and do something. I remembered that I didn’t feel bad at all. I was crying and too ashamed to care about stupid dolphins. They should all die anyway for embarrassing me like the one in the pool did. Thinking back with what I know now, those dolphins in the pictures were probably caught because they ate some poor fisherman’s pack of Twizzlers.
When I tugged my mom’s skirt telling her we caught a mini-dolphin, she laughed again (reading all this back, its no wonder I have low self esteem), correcting me, saying it was a mouse. I asked her how was I ever to tell them apart? And she said something about legs, flippers, blowholes, water, size, fur, etc, etc, etc. Boy was I ever confused! I’ve since learned that every time I was referring to a mini-dolphin in the house, I was actually talking about a mouse. I’m still having a tough time telling them apart. Oh yeah, they both taste like tuna too. – Da Ritzenator