In life, there’s some things you just can’t do. You can’t take your seatbelt off on the highway and stick your head through the sunroof. You can’t throw Molotov cocktails at your douchebag neighbor’s house just because he throws loud parties that go early into the morning. You can’t turn dirt into gold, you can’t shoot heroin before your shift at the hospital, you can’t eat a McRib for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. One more thing that you cannot, under any circumstances, even think about doing is fucking an animal. And of all the animals you shouldn’t even be thinking about fucking, a bird would be the worst of all.
You just can’t fuck birds, okay? You just can’t. That would go against every social norm that we as humans have collectively worked for tens of thousands of years to develop. There’s no civilization anywhere on the planet in which that would be okay, because the very idea of fucking a bird is so repulsive, or at least should be, to every decent human on earth, that publicly entertaining the notion for an even brief moment would turn you into a social pariah. And so it should! We’re not here to debate that – far from it. We think fucking a bird would be a moral abomination, a grotesque and sickly act. We can’t possibly be more clear about this: we are not okay with fucking birds.
But at the same time, I think that deep down we all know something. We know that in a purely, entirely hypothetical society, a society in which bird fucking wasn’t looked down upon, there’s one bird we’d all choose to fuck: the lithe, sleek, regal penguin.Maybe for you, it’d be a majestic emperor penguin. Do you like the way they withstand the cruel Antarctic winters by huddling close together? Do you wish you were naked in the middle of that huddle, surrounded on every side by hundreds and hundreds of sexy A. forsteri, hmm, do you?
