Monstrosity

As you undoubtedly may or may not recall from my earlier post, other scientists that are in awe of my amazing biological skills and knowledge saw fit to honour my achievements with a statue. Well, it is with mixed feelings that I announce the completion of the aforementioned shrine to my undeniable superiority. Basically, I commanded Rogelio to supervise this aforementioned important undertaking to ensure that it does justice to my commitment to the cradle of life that we call my beloved Earth. Obviously, it would be very difficult, nay impossible, for any mortal being to capture this aforementioned dedication in a mere work of art. Despite me being among the most modest people on the planet, I’m sure you can imagine the anticipation with which I have awaited being immortalized as the greatest living biologist. Well, here’s the statue.


ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!!! What in the hell is this?!? Needless to say, I feel betrayed, deceived, and let down by this pitiful excuse for an immortalization. All I see is a freaky looking naked dude with a bunch of babies! Rogelio assures me that this disgusting piece of filth is meant to represent my strength and virility while displaying me balancing humanity against its own senseless destruction. I guess it’s hard to argue with that. Nonetheless, the nudity troubles me; it looks like I’m being attacked by naked babies! I think it may take more than $30,000 to properly secure my legacy. In the meantime, I think I’ll use the hired help to make sure that my statue remains unfettered by the tyranny of dirt and grime. If I’m standing naked in the park punting a baby, at least I’ll be clean while I’m doing it.

Mud

My studs and studettes, I have bad news. My personal 2-wheel drive land rover has basically succumbed to the quicksand, at least for now. Let me regale you with news of its passing, which, as you may or may not know, involves the incompetent parade of nitwits that pass for my technicians.

I was basically out driving across my neighbor's farm field with my land rover. I know my land rover does not save the earth as much as walking or taking my $12,000 canoe, but I had a mighty thirst for Zima that day, and we simply could not carry the Zima and field supplies and my emergency duffel of loofahs (for when I get mud on my face). So we set out for the field in the dead of night. We have to travel in the dead of night because I promised my neighbors I wouldn't tear up their farm fields. Ha! I don't think they've caught on yet. (It's been really windy though, and rocks keep falling from the cliff and breaking the windows of my land rover. Rogelio suggested the neighbors might not like me driving through their only patch of land that they use for their subsistence farming, and perhaps are throwing rocks at my two-wheel-drive land rover while I am not looking. However, not to brag or anything, but I have a B.S. in rockology, and I know that sometimes rocks fall from the cliff by my house.) But I digress. So we tore through the neighbor's pathetic little farm, when we got to a muddy spot. I made Mateo take off all his clothes and lay them in front of the land rover so that the tires didn't get dirty, and we drove across that one. But then there was another muddy spot that came up. Mateo suggested we turn around because it looked deep, but he's a pansy little girl like that. I said just to gun it and cranked up the Milli Vanilli and rocked out in the passenger seat. He must have gunned it wrong though, because we suddenly found ourselves in 5 feet of mud and sinking. Stupid Mateo, it was all his fault, that's the last time I let him drive. You can imagine my horror, because the land rover was basically incredibly muddy and relatively underwater. I am sure we will dig it out though, I have diverted my technicians to spend the next week digging for the land rover. I got them new hand trowels so that they do not scratch the land rover by digging too much at once, and have designed a special protocol, which directs the digging perpendicularly around the lines of a dodecahedron. It is sure to work.

On cleanliness

As you know, I have a canoe that’s well suited to my importance. Basically, by using my research funds to purchase a $12,000 canoe, I was accepting the fact that I am too important to have anything less. As you may or may not recall from your previous readings, I don’t let my technicians use the aforementioned canoe and I use it once per week when I’m in Paraguay and not Slovenia where, as you may or may not know, my life partner lives. One of the most important parts about having such an amazing canoe is keeping it clean. Basically, one way that I do this is by not letting mere passengers wear shoes while in my remarkable watercraft. Being of superior intellect, I am basically always captain of said watercraft and thus able to wear the appropriate footwear of my choosing. Obviously, you’re basically wondering why technicians are not allowed to don shoes in my canoe.
Well, put down what you’re doing, because I’ve got a story for you! Once upon a time on a Wednesday afternoon on a flooded river in Paraguay, the most spectacular biologist to grace this Earth was quietly canoeing through the haunts of the spectacularly important Helmeted Woodpecker and contemplating how he might go about saving this glorious creature from humanity’s cruel chokehold before it slips into the dark void of extinction. Oh yeah, he also had a technician with him. Anyhow, as they rounded a bend in the aforementioned swollen river, the intrepid biologist noticed something. “What’s that?” he said. “Que?” said the lowly technician. “Is that mud?!” alleged the Earth’s most gifted creature. “Que?” whimpered the subhuman piece of filth. After the heated exchange, and pretending not to understand English, the technician proceeded as if nothing had happened. Understandably, the noble scientist could not accept such insubordination, such vile mutiny, so he basically expunged the aforementioned technician out of the watercraft in which he clearly did not deserve to travel. The valiant biologist courageously continued on his destiny while the technician swam back to his tent. Now here’s the surprise, I’m the biologist in the story and Rogelio is the technician, and this is why I don’t let passengers wear shoes in my canoe. I’m generous to even let them ride in it! So why do I wear shoes in the canoe? Because Mateo just spent two hours giving me a pedicure and I’m not going to jeopardize the condition of my feet, are you freaking kidding me?!? Cleaning my canoe is one of the reasons that I keep technicians around anyway, they should feel privileged to even be near me.

Catch Phrases

As you may or may not know, most biologists would love to be in my shoes. Basically, this isn’t because my shoes are immaculately clean, which basically they are, but rather because I work on the most important research project in the world and I’ve been told that I’m among the greatest biologists to ever walk our beloved Earth. I know what you’re thinking, everyone’s Mom tells them that they’re the best, well, she does, but she’s not the only one. I basically repeat my Earth-saving mantra into the mirror at least 12 times every afternoon while I’m working on my hair and preparing to grace the HEWO with my presence and begin my field work for the day; “I’m the chosen one, others may be jealous but no one can save the Earth but me.” Basically, it should come as no surprise that others attempt to emulsify my every move. In fact, lesser biologists have caught on to some of my catch phrases and basically repeat them, occasionally in other languages, in an effort to become the World’s Greatest Biologist. Basically, I’m not bragging or anything, but, as you may or may not know, I find this aforementioned reproduction to be flattering. Sadly, this will not make you a better biologist, you’re either born with it or you’re not, but it does make you infinitely more studly. So continue to replica me aspiring biologists, but sadly for you there can be only one WGB.