Tuesday, August 16, 2011

I Would Not, In Fact, Like To Swim With Dolphins

You know what? I don’t want to swim with dolphins. Apparently, this makes me the worst human being ever, because whenever I have mentioned this, people look at me as though to say “You know who also probably didn’t want to swim with dolphins? Hitler. And probably also Charles Manson. I bet you like to kick puppies and kittens for shits and giggles, don’t you?”. Swimming with dolphins is apparently a very popular thing to want to do. So popular, in fact, that it is the second most popular bucketlist item on http://www.sharebuckets.com/ after “get a tattoo”, which, coincidentally is another thing I don’t want to do, because I’m scared to death of both needles and commitment. Dolphin tattoos are probably also somewhere on the list as I have seen quite a few of those when I have had occasion to watch Jerry Springer.

For what it’s worth, I also don’t want to get out of the rat race and just open a quaint bed and breakfast somewhere out in New Hampshire or whatever other naturey type state they have, because I find even houseguests that I know personally to be entirely unbearable, and I am pretty sure having strangers in my house that I have to make breakfast for would be a really bad time. For both of us, actually. I mean, I can’t imagine anyone being too thrilled about the bowl of Cracklin’ Oat Bran I would likely toss them. I wouldn’t want to stay in one either, because I figure you’d probably have to talk to the people and that’s pretty gross. Nonetheless, this is a popular thing to want to do.

I also do not believe in God, although people do not look as horrified when I tell them this as when I tell them I do not want to swim with dolphins. Sometimes they look sad. Sometimes they say “But don’t you wish you did? Wouldn’t it be nice?” and they make it sound so nice and all. But no, I actually do not wish that I did, because I think I’d be really uncomfortable with the idea of someone watching me all the time in order to “judge” me. Like, while I'm going to the bathroom, or just sitting there watching Intervention and eating ice cream or something and deciding whether or not he thinks I should burn for eternity. That would be so awkward.

But, back to the dolphins.

I am not anti-dolphin. I buy dolphin-safe tunafish. I donate my 15 dollars a month to Greenpeace and occasionally even actually read the weird emails they send me every day about Trader Joe’s supporting Somalian pirates in some capacity. I even know the secret password to get the Greenpeace canvassers around 6 corners to stop bothering you every time you are waiting for the Damen Bus. It is “Arctic Sunrise”, should you care to know. And yet, I have absolutely no desire to swim with freaking dolphins.

Why? Is it because I read Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy at a young age? Is it because I hate the glorious majesty of nature? Is it because I have no soul? Maybe. Maybe it is all of those things. But mostly it’s that I think it would be really boring after 5 minutes, I mean, I lived in Massachusetts. I’ve seen whales. They are not that riveting, and they’re like, way bigger than dolphins. I lived in Plymouth for the first four years of my life where the major tourist attractions are a rock in a hole in the ground and whale watching. “Oh, we’re on a boat… with some binoculars… there’s a whale. Now it’s gone…” As far as crappy Massachusetts field trips go, I would rather walk the Freedom Trail four times over, or spend three hours staring blankly at a statue of Paul Revere, than ever go whale watching. Also, given the fact that swimming with the dolphins costs like $1500, and they probably don’t even let you drink or smoke, I really do not see how it’s at all worth it.

Plus, like, what does it even entail? According to the Wikipedia entry on Swimming With Dolphins- which is a thing that exists, it seems that they will hug and kiss you, which is weird, and possibly dance around you, which could actually be terrifying and sort of Rosemary’s Baby-like. I imagine you are also supposed to touch them, and I just don’t know how pleasant that would actually be. I feel like the only thing you’d really get out of it would be the ability to tell people about it later, and act like you’re really special because you now know the mystical secrets of the dolphins or some shit.

I already know the mystical secret of the dolphins. Would you like to know what the mystical secret of the dolphins is? I will tell you. They’re rapists. That’s right. The gentle mammals of the sea are fucking rapists. There are like, 14 incidents of attempted or successful dolphin rape a year. If you don’t believe me, I suggest you check YouTube. A dude from England was put in jail for having copulated with a dolphin until it turned out that said dolphin was like the Dominique Strauss-Kahn of dolphins and went around trying to rape people pretty much all the time. Dolphin rape is probably like, 85,000 times worse than regular rape, as there is also the added issue of possibly drowning. And what if you died, and then at your funeral everyone was like “Oh, she was such a great person. Such a great lover of nature. It sure is tragic that she drowned while being raped by a dolphin.” Dolphins are also apparently fond of gang rape, and have been known to drag other dolphins and possibly people down to secret rape caves at the bottom of the ocean.

Yeah, right, you say. What are dolphins going to drag anyone with? Their flippers? Their flippers are slippery! And tiny! You could easily escape! And that just shows you that you do not know as much about dolphins as you think you do. Guess what they drag you down with! GUESS. They drag you down with their penises. Their prehensile penises. I’m not even joking. A dolphin’s dick is like a monkey’s tail, and they can use it like a freaking arm, with which to grab hold of you and drag you down to their secret lair at the bottom of the ocean where they will gang rape the fuck out of what by that time will probably be your lifeless corpse.

And what if you survived? The $1500 you paid for the trip would be surely be dwarfed by your therapy bills, and you’d probably have a seizure every time you accidentally saw a rerun of Flipper on TV Land. Plus, like, how do you even explain that to people? You'd be on a date with some dude at a restaurant with a fish tank, and then you’d just burst into tears like a crazy. And then you would have to say “Please excuse me, but I was raped by a dolphin. It’s very traumatic.” And he would probably think you were lying because everyone knows that dolphins are the friendly, gentle mammals of the sea. That relationship would not go very far, I’ll bet you.

So, you know- sure, maybe I’m an asshole for not wanting to swim with dolphins. Maybe I have some kind of character defeciency that prevents me from seeing the wonder in sloshing around the ocean with a bunch of large water mammals. But said deficiency will also prevent me from being raped by a dolphin, so maybe I don’t care.