Swift, sleek, cunning
Goddamn scientists, adding feathers
Ruins my badass image
To put this in context, let us examine a feathered Velociraptor....
Image courtesy of Wikipedia (whether they know it or not).
Decidedly less threatening than our previous perception of the little guys. I mean, what ever happened to those scary critters we all knew and grew up with from Jurassic Park?! What was so wrong with them that scientists felt the need to go and change the immortal image of a dinosaur that can't even defend itself in a public forum. Despicable, so called scientific advancement.
I also found this gem while Googling Velociraptor...
Image borrowed from http://sugarshacksouthie.com/?cat=5 (I don't know anything else about this website than this awesome drawing).
Now THAT is a guy I want to hang out with on the weekends. Another Fun Fact: the Velociraptor is riding a Velocipede, an early version of the modern bicycle. Notice the pedals on the front wheel. One of the first designs of this was aptly nicknamed the "Boneshaker." You're welcome for that tid bit of minutia (Plug: Go visit your local National Parks).
With that being stated: The creative genius is definitely there for this little Social Experiment, so let's participate, eh? If not, that's cool. It turns out to be less work for me. If you're not sure what I'm referring to, see the my last blog towards the end and get caught up!
Beyond those things, I'm pretty much fresh out of blog ideas after detailing 22 years of nonsense into four blogs. From this point on I plan on using "The Blog" (I've decided its earned this infamy after receiving over 600 views to this point...thank you!) for comedic reflections on life. A lot like Seinfield. But hopefully my Pop will approve of these quips and not hold the same disdain as he does for a certain 90s TV show... Sorry Jerry.
To continue with this thought, I work out pretty much everyday. I never used to up until this summer, and it was pretty obvious. I was a scrawny kid, and up until I was 12, my Mum was fairly certain I was going to be no taller than 5'4" (currently I'm 6'2" according to the last pool that I stood on the bottom of while flailing for air). At the gym I go to, for the moment, there is a particular woman who attends on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays during the same time which I do. Now I know many of you are thinking, "Oh geez, he's one of THOSE guys. Creep." Wrong, well maybe I am, but it's purely unintentional. I'm just awkward. Back to the point: this woman sees this fitness institution as a personal dating service and social club. She occupies a piece of equipment (place appropriate "That's what she said" reference here), for what seems to be hours on end while talking with her legion of old creepy muscle bound "friends." This is offensive enough in my personal court of judgment, but wait, it gets worse.
She cackles. Does not simply laugh, but this woman cackles. A good friend of mine, quite correctly, noted that "A cackle a day keeps the cankles away!" But why?! My ears are routinely assaulted with the piercing shrill of this modern day Wicked Witch of the West. I wait for the day when I see Dorthy running on the track with Toto as this woman chases them cackling while maintaining slender ankles. So this is my plea, please... pretty please... if you wish to use a gym as a dating establishment, don't cackle. A good chuckle or chortle are justified to the highest degree but a cackle is punishable by a throw of the two pound dumb bell I'm curling to preserve my girlish figure.
Conclusion: I, being the ever so dedicated blogger for you, Google Image searched "Cackle." Two of the first five images were of Hillary Clinton. I'll allow you to draw your own thoughts of that.
Hope everyone is well! Sorry for the long delay and absence in blogging. I now work and no longer a bumm so I have significantly less time. We can change this fairly easily if we make my blog popular enough to merit advertisers, and I could get paid for my ever so inspiring words..... Just a thought.