Identities


Backroad Ramblings

Well, first we had women “identifying” as men, then men “identifying” as women. Then we had a white person “identifying” as a black. You wouldn’t think things could get any nuttier…but they did.
I heard a story on the news the other day that said a guy in Arizona has decided to “identify” as a hippopotamus. Yes, you read that right. This person is saying he is actually a hippo trapped in a human body. You might laugh, but this is much better than being a human trapped in a hippo body.
So anyway, I found there are actually a lot of nut cases like this running around, they just don’t always make the headlines. There is even a word for people who claim they are actually animals trapped in human bodies. They are called “otherkin”.
Some people identify as foxes because foxes are sly and smart. Some identify as cheetahs to help them run faster. The guy in Arizona who says he’s a hippo says it’s because it makes him feel strong and sexy. If you have ever seen a hippo, you would agree with strong, but sexy?
  And no matter what people think about all this, the important thing is what do the animals have to say? If you went up to a herd of hippos and tried to tell them about it, they would most likely kill you. Hippos are not known for their conversational skills.
If you tried to explain to a fox how much you admire his skill and cunning, he would slip away unnoticed while you were talking. And I doubt there’s a person yet who could get a cheetah to sit still and talk. They would either race away or eat you. Animals are much less tolerant than humans.
So anyway, what in the wide, wide world makes a person decide they are an animal, anyway? Some scientists say it’s because people need to belong to something and they don’t feel they belong to the human race. This is clearly because they didn’t have an old-fashioned dad.
Old-fashioned dads didn’t put up with craziness like this. Old-fashioned dads said, “Get to the table for supper. You’re part of this family, so act like it.” Or they would say, “You want something, you work. I work, your mom works, that’s how it works. Welcome to life.”
With an old fashioned dad, you knew for certain that you were part of a family, which made you part of the human race. And if you were part of the human race, you wouldn’t even think of “identifying” as an animal because you would find yourself on the back porch with a dish full of dog food for supper. Old-fashioned dads have about as much tolerance
as hippos.
So anyway, back to the guy who says he’s a hippo. I actually feel sorry for him. Obviously he needs some attention. He needs a therapist. But most of all, he needs an old-fashioned dad.

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