Tag Archives: humor

Plague of Fireflies



Photo by tsaiian, CC

Seventeen-Year Cicadas
You’ve heard them sing their song,
Sonic waves unstoppable
All spring and summer long

But another swarm is coming-
Oh what can ready your eyes?
For every thousand years
Is a Plague of Fireflies

Some will think them falling stars
Some will think them wild fires
Some will think they’re dreaming
When all these things transpire

Lightning Bugs in your bushes
Fireflies in your trees
Rivers of luminous insects
Blowing in the breeze

You won’t have enough mason jars
For the trillions in your town
There aren’t enough kids to capture
The quintillions the whole world round

The darkest mountain will shimmer
The clouds will glitter at night
Even the snowy poles of earth
Will sparkle twice as white

In those days the earth will glow
The moon will shine it back
The night will be a rock show
Yellow instead of black

It will be too bright to sleep or think
When earth becomes a star,
You’ll have to stay home everyday
You can’t see to drive a car

To basements and caves we’ll go then
In darkness down deep inside,
And how long will we be there?
For seventeen years we’ll hide

-Jared St. Martin Brown, June 2016

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Sir Mix-a-Lot’s Thesis

The reason people like Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” is not because of the catchy beat. It’s because he speaks in a clear declarative sentence that states his point of view. “I like big butts and I can not lie. You other brothers can’t deny…” Consider weaker versions of his thesis. Here is one in the passive voice: “Big butts are liked by me. You other brothers must agree…” Or here’s one that apologizes for the author’s beliefs: “In my opinion big butts are attractive. You other brothers be proactive…” See? Not as good.

So take a writing lesson from Sir Mix-a-Lot. Next time you find yourself being verbose and indirect, just say to yourself, “Shake that healthy butt!” and you’ll remember to be clear and strong.


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Artwork by Josh Floquet- 2011

St. Stephen’s Day At My House

Happy St. Stephen’s Day!  If you plan to come over to my house on December 26th of any given year, that’s what you’ll hear.  If you are unfamiliar with the holiday, a few seconds on Google will tell you most of what you need to know.  It’s an Irish observance, known to the rest of the world only through brief mention in a couple of classic carols (“Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen…”).  As far as I know, I have no direct cultural connection to Ireland, and I don’t live in an Irish-American neighborhood.  In fact, even St. Patrick’s Day is barely remembered in our small Appalachian town.  It’s something people are content to see in Good Morning America’s coverage of parades in Chicago or Philadelphia.  We don’t even really have anything one might call a “pub.”  We have bars where people watch NFL and drink Bud Light, rather than watch World Cup and drink Guinness.  Yet, for the past eight years, St. Stephen’s Day has been celebrated faithfully by my family and a collection of close friends, and I must say I look forward to it as much as Christmas itself.  So how did this holiday tradition begin in isolation at one little house in West Virginia?  And perhaps the better question is can we even call it a “holiday tradition” if it’s not something that was handed down to me through a long line of Irish ancestors?

In truth, it began with a Chieftains album called “The Bells of Dublin.”  Still among my favorites, the album was just one of many in my Irish music collection.  Mingled throughout its many superb renditions of Christmas poetry and carols were a few songs dedicated to St. Stephen’s Day- one a hilarious original tune by Elvis Costello, and the others a medley of traditional party-like performances in which the band plays the role of “the wren boys.”  The more I heard about the day, the more I liked the idea, but my fascination was not so much with the traditions themselves but with the very idea of a December 26th holiday.  As a hard-working (yet exhausted) young man, I couldn’t help but dream of life in a culture where people don’t necessarily jump right back to work the day after Christmas. 

Perhaps it was my cynical, anti-retail attitude that noticed, but in the city where I lived at the time, December 26th was beast of a business day… especially for the stores that worked so hard to sell us our Christmas gifts in the first place.  The streets again were filled with trucks and other work traffic, the parking lots bustled with cars, customer service counters swarmed with cranky folks waiting to exchange a gift without a receipt, and a dozen stores on each block advertised day-after-Christmas sales.  I wondered what it was about us in America that couldn’t stand to take more than one day off from our consumer rituals.  It was as if we had to punish ourselves and each other for allowing the commercial world to shut down for a day.  Didn’t we have better things to do the day after Christmas?

During my search for St. Stephen’s Day, I happened to bring up the idea to a kind elder named Carl who for the past decade had spent about six months of each year in Germany.  Carl recounted his enjoyment celebrating the “second day of Christmas” in Germany.  According to him, it was just like December 25th in almost every way.  “What do they call that day in Germany?” I asked.  Like many Americans, I knew from my wall calendar that it was known as something called “Boxing Day” in Canada.  I expected this December 26th observance in Germany to have its own special name.  “It’s called ‘second day of Christmas,’” Carl replied, “and I liked it because it was nice quiet day.  Here, in America, it’s business as usual the day after Christmas.”  For me that settled it.  I knew that when I had a family of my own, we would recognize two holidays and, thanks to the Chieftains, it was going to be St. Stephen’s Day.

So over the past few years St. Stephen’s Day has become a couple of things.  On one hand it’s a great reunion of friends and family whom life has taken to varying places around the world.  These folks, who just happen to be in town visiting immediate family, are often glad to pop out and visit with a variety of other West Virginians who have moved to Russia, China, Australia, Europe, Colorado, Tennessee, Georgia, Nevada, and Hawaii.  Without St. Stephen’s Day, it would be hard to get these old friends together.  On the other hand, it’s a great place to welcome new friends into the best our quirky family has to offer.  Our annual St. Stephen’s Day Party consists of a variety of unusual fun including a gingerbread house quick-construction contest, and a competition for the best funeral service held for a (fake) dead wren.  For me St. Stephen’s Day is a time to have goofy fun with some of the people I love most.

So, can I claim this crazy event as a holiday tradition, or have I gone the way of Frank Costanza and created a Festivus of my own?  Well, if you think about it, most of what we call a tradition is not a national observance, a community observance, or even a cultural observance.  It’s a family or household observance.  While Christmas itself may be recognized world-wide as December 25th, the celebration of Christmas is specific to region.  Check your Christmas facts- not everyone has snow, Santa, turkey, and stop-motion animated television specials.  An even in the same region, family rituals differ.  In the United States, most of us have a tree, presents, a dinner, and Christmas records, but aside from that the family traditions vary greatly.  Each household does its own thing and it may not do it the same way every year.  One family sleeps in until 10am, eats brunch, then goes to the cinema, while another wakes up at 5am, tears open gifts, then fries a turducken.  One family has a cookout on the lake in sunny 60 degree weather, while another gets drunk and takes turns driving the snowmobile through the frozen hills.  Do you get the idea?  So at my house, we recognize a second holiday by blasting Irish music and enjoying a grand night of food and games with our best friends.  So what?  It’s our tradition. Happy St. Stephen’s Day!

Poster by Jared St. Martin Brown



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Street Art

Banksy Banksy, Batman of Art

Flew from his cave like a silent dart

Emergency sirens, dreadful and loud

Signal stenciled on smoggy clouds


For, underscored by a Joker’s laugh,

An insidious wall broke the city in half,

And a stupid riot broke out when

The people were divided into “us” and “them”


Then “BAM! POW!” the partition was bruised-

Next morning, the deed on the local news,

And despite the clarity of disabused minds,

The heroics themselves were called a crime


For as the sun exposed the unwelcome wall

The painting upon it made it fall…

So painted elephants ruled the day

And, as usual, Batman hidden away


-JSMB 10/13/11

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I am an English teacher.  I love my job, so it comes up often in conversations with people I have just met.  Invariably, someone will say, “English teacher, eh?  Oh no.  I’ll try to watch my grammar around you.”  In those moments, I feel a pang in my heart, for there begins a quake of guilt and embarrassment which ripples through my soul awakening both pity and frustration alike. Clutching my chest, like Fred Sanford calling for his deceased Elizabeth, I grimace and respond, “There is no need to watch what you say.  Only a complete jerk would stop a good conversation to correct someone’s English.”  Depending on the type of company, I may use a harsher word than “jerk.”  My frustration lies with the fact that just such a jerk must have attacked this poor individual in the past, and as a result, he is now afraid to express himself, as valid as his points and ideas may be, in front of anyone else who may know a thing or two about the language. Unfortunately, these conversation-killing “grammar-correcting” jerks are everywhere.  There seems to be one in every social setting, and the haughtiest among them proudly refer to themselves as “Grammar-Nazis.”

                The label is fitting in a number of ways.  The ubiquitous Grammar-Nazi gets a sort of Aryan feeling of superiority out of goose-stepping all over slang, colloquialisms, erroneously conjugated verbs, misplaced modifiers, clumsily placed prepositions, adjectives used as adverbs, mispronounced words, and split infinitives.  When the Grammar-Nazi is most successful, he commits conversational genocide by capturing the topic at hand and sending it off to a concentration camp so the entire focus of the discussion can be turned toward his waving red flag of language skills.  You’ve seen this happen before:  In the normal course of conversation, in the flow of improvised ideas, someone will slip up and the Grammar-Nazi will swoop in and completely blitzkrieg all further communication by embarrassing the offending individual.  The worst Grammar-Nazis tend to follow the attack by insulting the victim’s upbringing or education (“Is that how they talk down there in Texas?”).  The conversation fully invaded, the Grammar-Nazi looms over his victim looking as smug as can be… like Colonel Klink adjusting his monocle. 

                My biggest problem with the Grammar-Nazi is not his tendency to disrupt friendly conversation.  It’s his desire to feign mastery of the language.  There is, however, plenty that the Grammar-Nazi does not know:  Does any Grammar-Nazi fully appreciate the versatility, and mutability of the language?  Is the Grammar-Nazi aware that English is an untamable chimera of a language that was born out of so many others, and that it continues to absorb into itself any foreign word or idea it wants to keep?  Is the Grammar-Nazi aware that English cannot conform to the rules of Latin or any other language?  Does the Grammar-Nazi know that the power of English is in its diversity rather than its ostensible purity?  I would guess the answer is “no,” because while the Grammar-Nazi is marching around on patrol, the real masters of the language are running, like Jesse Owens, in circles all around him.  Virginia Woolf, Gertrude Stein, William Faulkner, James Joyce, Herman Melville, Allen Ginsberg, William Shakespeare, and even Bob Dylan created some of our most enduring ideas, and they did it in language that perhaps no Grammar-Nazi would tolerate.

                As an English teacher, I get no pleasure out of showing off my language skills at the expense of someone else.  There is a time and place for proofreading or for refining one’s speaking skills, and it’s not during friendly communication.  I think it’s time for the Grammar-Nazi to retire his arm band, pick up a book from the “burn pile” and read with liberated eyes… and after a few days of that, maybe he’ll be ready to participate in a conversation without trying to rid the world of language that doesn’t meet his personal standard.


AUTHOR’S NOTE: If the reader is concerned about the shamelessness with which I took advantage of the Nazi metaphor in the second and third paragraph, I would redirect the reader to worry more about the two TV sit-com allusions instead.

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Truth is stranger than Fiction, but Truth doesn’t have to worry about selling advertisements. 

Truth watches as Fiction holds her camera at arm’s length to take a picture of herself for the internet.  “I don’t worry about making money,” declares Truth, “because I’m pure and unhindered.”

“Like Art?” Fiction asks.

“Most certainly not!” Truth replies.  “Art is not pure.  It’s artificial.  Hence the name.”

“That’s funny,” Fiction says, “Because just yesterday, I heard Art claim to be Truth.”

“Preposterous!” Truth shouts.

“Who says ‘preposterous’ anymore?”

“I do.  When your name is Truth, you need to say it a lot.  Anyway, I don’t like Art taking credit for what I do?”

“Well,” says Fiction very matter-of-factly, “You get plenty of credit for my work.  ‘Based on a True Story’, ‘Convoluted Truth’, ‘Historically Accurate’, ‘Self-Awareness’, ‘Telling It Like It Is’… That’s all my work not yours.”

“It’s not my fault that people can’t tell the difference,” Truth says coldly.

“Sometimes I think it is.”

“Sometimes I think you work too hard, Fiction.”

Fiction makes one last “cutesy-face” with innocent eyes and a pouty bottom lip.  She holds the camera high above her head, and snaps the photo.  “I think we both know, I’m way more popular.”

“Are you going to crop that down to make sure your chest is in the picture… like you’ve done all the others?”

“You know it.  When you do what I do, a cute face alone is not enough.”

Truth stands and stretches her long slender arms.  “What do you do, anyway?”

“I keep people from having to deal with you, sis.”

Truth grabs her diary and heads for the door.  “I’m going for a walk in the woods.  And I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Do what you want.  You always do.”

-Jared St. Martin Brown 9/8/11

Related Post: https://sanmartincafe.wordpress.com/2011/06/11/fiction/#comments

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Can God make a rock so big he can’t lift it?  Can God make a hole so small that he can’t go through it?  Can God microwave a burrito so hot he can’t eat it?  When I was a smart-alecky kid in Sunday school, I loved to ask these questions.  I, of course, did not invent them.  They were handed down to me from the previous generation of smart-alecks who had inherited them out of the endless cycle of youngsters who think themselves the authors of sarcasm and mockery.  This article, loaded with logical fallacy, is dedicated to those smart-aleck kids.  After all, today’s punk is tomorrow’s poet, painter, or theologian.

The questions listed above do have answers, but they are not the kind that anyone who asks them really wants to hear.  Typically, the kid who blurts out “Can God make another God even more powerful than himself?” already knows the answer.  He just wants to see his old teacher fret and blush and reluctantly admit, “No he can’t.”  This sets him up to throw out the second swing of his one-two punch, “But I thought you said that God can do anything.”  Now he’s got that old Sunday school teacher cornered!  There is no way she can respond to that, and the class has been thoroughly disrupted which is what he’d really wanted all along.  If she is daring, she might admit that there are, in fact, things that God can’t do.  If she is a coward, she might tell that smart-aleck to keep his mouth shut and stay in his seat.  If she is a former smart-aleck herself, she might say, “Sure there are things God can’t do… but that doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“What do you mean?” the smart-aleck wonders.  Now the old Sunday school teacher has the smart-aleck right where she wants him.  These questions, like many we ask about God are from human perspective, which is temporal and limited.  Human beings typically rule out the paradoxes that a supreme, infinite being can create.  Light, God’s first creation in the book of Genesis, is a perfect example.  Like light, which acts as both a wave and a particle, travels away from its source at the same amazing speed no matter how fast the source is traveling, and whose components possess the mysterious ability to exist at more than one place in the universe simultaneously, God can do many seemingly irreconcilable things at once.  Consider how God addressed these other, more important, questions:  “Can God die?”  “Can God physically weep for the poverty and death in the world?”  “Can God allow human beings to look at his face?”  “Can God be tempted?”  “Can God be hungry?” “Can God suffer for sin?” “Can God ever not know something?”  Perhaps when one focuses on God the supreme being, who no man can see and live, the answer is “no.”  And yet, we all know that through the incarnation of Jesus, the answer is “yes.”

With Christ, God revealed some paradoxes that had always existed, but only the prophet and daydreamer could have understood prior to.  Like light, which seemed so common, simple, and easy to control before Planck and Einstein, God proved to be something more than provincial logic could contain.  Much of what seemed impossible before was now, paradoxically, impossible and possible at the same time.  “Can God die?” No.  But Jesus could, so yes.  “Could God allow human beings to look at his face?” No. But Jesus could, so yes.  “Could God be tempted?” No.  But Jesus could, so yes.

So… Could God write a book so long that he can’t read it? No, but yes.  Could God make a taco salad so gigantic he couldn’t eat it?  No, but yes.  Could God make a video game so difficult he couldn’t beat it?  No, but yes.  It’s just that those things never came up in the life of Christ.  He spent his thirty-some years reconciling mankind to its creator and satisfying the most profound of human needs, instead of responding to our wry questions.  If you look at all of the moments in the gospel stories in which people tried to trick or trap Jesus in a question, the wise young man always answered the question in a way that confounded the inquisitor (Matt 22:17-21, Luke 4:1-8).  Then with the inquisitor thoroughly stupefied, Jesus went on to give his time to those who had real needs and genuine questions.

I expect, by now, the reader may feel that something is amiss.  Although, these answers seem adequate on a smart-aleck’s terms, they can’t be all there is to this discussion.  That is true, for even our most brilliant questions (sincere or otherwise) about God and other unfathomable topics, are an attempt to capture the uncontainable, to comprehend the incomprehensible.  The question is made of human reason and it expects a certain kind of answer.  Since the source of the question is limited, the question itself has limitations that render it inadequate to receive the infinitude of the response.  It’s like walking up to Niagara Falls with a paper cup and saying, “Can you get in this for me?”  It is only by the grace of God that any human receives an answer to anything.  With this in mind, the answers provided by the life of Jesus seem to be the apex of grace.


So, I hope in some small way this article has satisfied the smart-aleck.  I know that, as a kid, I would have appreciated such a straight-forward discussion, although it wouldn’t have stopped me from looking for ways to annoy my teachers.  That said, I wonder if God could make a Sunday school class so interesting that even he wouldn’t get bored?  I really don’t know.

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Mustache That Sounds Useful But Isn’t


Mustache Discontinued


Still Makes Hitler’s Mustache Funny


Type Of Clause Allowing Charlie Chaplin to Wear A Hitler Mustache


Cursed Facial Hair


Beard That Holds On Amish Hat


First To Discover That A Long Beard Could Obstruct Vision When Descending Too Quickly Into The Ocean


Learned From Neptune’s Lesson And Swore Off Beards


Alias For Most Men In Fake Beard


Never Has Facial Hair


What Facial Hair Symbolizes In Comic Books


Best Villain Mustache


Type Of Man Who Can Have Any Facial Hair He Wants


Had To Change His Name When Shaven


Type Of Facial Hair Acceptable On Women But Seldom Used


Rocked the Unibrow!


Type of Jewelry That Looks Weird On Bearded Men


Favorite New Facial Hair Classification


Coined By Man Who Resembles Hobbit


Still Looks Strange Without Mustache


Should Be Shaven If Patchy


Best Facial Hair For Fat Round Face


Best Facial Hair For Long Skinny Face


Will Smite You For Laughing At His White Curley Chin


What Women Think Of Beards


What Women Feel For Mustaches


Status Of Beard On Wise Hermit For Which You Have Just Climbed A Himalayan Mountain To Seek


How Yosemite Sam Would Look Without Beard


Only Cute Word For Beard


Best Type Of Eyes For Bearded Prophet


Advice For Man Whose Mustache Flaps When He Speaks


Surrealist Whose Facial Hair Attracted Pollinating Insects And Gave Rise To A Subspecies Of Mustached Petunias and Unibrowed Black-Eyed Suzans



Though unpopular in contemporary western culture, beards, mustaches, and chops hold great fascination for men, young and old alike.  Most men have experimented with facial hair at some point: from the pubescent peach fuzz mustache, to the college “Septembeard” competition, to the mid-life crisis goatee.  The draw of facial hair lies in the creative potential of its endless configurations, and in its deceptive promise of positive attention from women.  Yet, for the unskilled user, facial hair can cause some unwanted problems: scorn, ridicule, fear, break ups, lost elections.  Though beards occur naturally, they require the wisdom of human cultivation.  With the right guidance, a man could live out his facial hair dreams and still receive full support and acceptance from the public.  That is why, I, Jared St. Martin Brown, have begun to offer my services as an Amateur Facial Hair Consultant.  A beard wearer myself, I
have many helped men avoid facial hair catastrophes by accosting them with unsolicited advice.  Although, you’d think this would annoy people, most men are grateful to hear it from me before they hear it from their wives, girlfriends, mothers, and other loved ones.  Most men find that the wisdom I’ve accrued while studying such great beard growers as Abraham Lincoln and Bill Murray points them in the right whisker-grooming direction.

Although most of my clients are men, I am willing to consult with women who have facial hair issues.  Let me just say upfront that the only facial hair acceptable on women is the unibrow, although the popularity of these has waned in the past century or so.  The problem with mustaches and beards on women is that they just don’t grow in very well.  If women had the ability to grow quality lip and chin hair, I’m sure they would have found some brilliant way to creatively style it by now.  I mean, if you take a picture of a pretty girl and draw a mustache on her, she doesn’t look half bad.   Yet, since most female mustaches and beards come in patchy and thin, I give the same advice I give to men with the same problem: shave.

If you have questions and concerns about your own facial hair, send a photo to lexidelphi@hotmail.com.  While Oprah Winfrey’s eyebrow stylist got paid thousands a week, my services are absolutely free.  Don’t hesitate to contact me.

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Animal Proverbs
(an Ode)

People often remark upon how much like humans chimps behave
But, to me, raccoons seem much smarter

The opossum is the black sheep of the marsupial family

Generally, a black sheep is accepted by the other sheep because
Sheep are careful to maintain harmony within the flock
Through the practice of mutual indifference

Unicorns are symbols of magic and wonder

A horse is the only creature you can make magical or wonderful
By affixing a horn to its forehead-
If you added a horn to an opossum
People would call it “evil”

A narwhal is a real unicorn
But most children are not aware it exists
(The horn is a tooth)

Okapis are beautiful
But most children are not aware they exist
(They are not in the small catalogue of creatures storytellers use to write children’s books-
Bears, monkeys, mice, and dogs have dominated that market for a long time)

The okapi has the most photographed rear end of any animal

Mysteriously, the declaration
“The chicken crossed the road to get to the other side”
Has long been considered a joke,
Even though there is nothing whatsoever funny about it-
In truth, the average chicken is not aware that it has crossed a road
Which negates any question about its desire to have done so

Many birds can fly-
If this no longer amazes you,
You might be taking your own existence for granted

Although the plural form of “cactus” is “cacti,”
The plural form of “octopus” is “octopuses”
And of “platypus”, “platypuses”-
If you ever find yourself in a situation where you
Are among more than one octopus or platypus
You probably won’t have time
To look up the plural forms in the dictionary-
Memorize them so you will not say “platypi”

There is a such thing as a gliding tree snake
That can flatten its body and sidewind upon the wind

The only creature
As feared and despised by humans
As a snake
Is a spider-
Thank God they can’t have babies together

It doesn’t seem to bother most people
That an elephant could grab them with his nose

Elephant boogers are cylindrical
And can be as long as eight feet

A fire breathing elephant
Would be much more dangerous
Than a dragon

The fire breathing wooly mammoth
Made itself extinct
(Fur burns)

Housecats kill songbirds
But cats, themselves, make terrible music

In some parts of the world
Yaks provide food and clothing
On which entire villages depend,
In my part of the world
Yaks are used only
To teach children the letter “Y”

Lemurs are more entertaining to watch
Than monkeys
And they come in greater variety,
But because of their refusal
To wear funny hats,
They are not as popular with humans-
A true artist respects the lemur’s
Fight to hold its creative integrity

People only want to protect attractive animals-
A woman will cry if you step on a hamster
But not if you step on a tarantula
Even though both creatures
Are roughly the same size,
Have the same amount of fur,
And will leave the same amount of mess
When crushed upon the carpet

The manatee is the only ugly animal
That people will spend money to protect

Beavers build dams
Without spending a single tax dollar

Camels look silly
But anyone who rides a camel
Looks wealthy and sophisticated

Some prefer the company
Of animals to humans
But this is because
Animals cannot express their opinions
In human language-
If animals could talk
You wouldn’t like them
As much as you do now

A talking cat would be a terrible pet
Unless you like to be the object
Of scathing judgment

Earthworms have aided mankind
Throughout history
More than any cat or hamster

Some cultures believe that crows
Have the ability to travel back and forth
From here to the spirit world-
In our world, a flock of crows
Is called a “murder,”
In the spirit world, the flock is called
A “resurrection”

People often compare human women
To cats, gazelles, or bunnies,
But the best kind of woman
May be compared to a giraffe-
Graceful, beautiful, mythic,
But with the ability to cause laughter-
I think of this when I notice that
My wife’s tongue is blue from a lollipop

People often compare human men
To bears, bulls, or dogs,
And these seem fitting

A turtle’s shell is a protection
And a burden

People say a turtle’s shell is its home
But I don’t believe them,
Because when people buy a turtle,
They put it in an aquarium, which is inside a house-
If I lived in a box, inside of shed, inside of an apartment building,
Would you say the box was my home?

A crab’s shell is stolen

Owls have the unique ability to
See the contradiction between a
Person’s beliefs and his actions;
This is why owls keep quiet-
Their chant, “who,” is designed
To deflect your attention away from them

Some wonder whether animals
Feel emotion,
Yet, we have all seen animals
Display symptoms of fear

There is no land equivalent
To the jellyfish

The water equivalent to the ferret
Is the eel

Sea dragons are real but they are not like
Mythical dragons,
They look like psychedelic sea horses
Escaped from Cirque Du Soleil
And they are 100 times more amazing than
Mythical dragons

Tuna resent being called
“The chicken of the sea”

Sea cucumbers resent being
Named after a vegetable-
They would rather be called
“Sea Twinkies”

If an octopus had seventeen arms
It would be called a “septadecapus”

Zebras end most lists of animals

-Jared St. Martin Brown ends this one

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