Dear Jackass

Dear Curious George

This is a question I am often asked, but here it goes. People often say they would want to be a bird so they could shit all over people they don’t like–or maybe even people they do. That’s so cliche and lacks imagination. They also clearly never thought that one through. I mean–who the hell wants to wake up so damn early every day, sing upon waking, and carry lice? Who wants to constantly build new homes only to find someone destroyed them? Who wants to fly south every winter? Sounds like a lot of exercise to me! Sure–the early bird gets the worm, but who the hell wants worms? I want pizza and cake. Nothing more. Nothing less. And maybe toss in a few veggies for good measure. And some whiskey just because. Why would anyone want to chew their children’s food up and spit it into their mouths? Really? Dirty little birds. No thanks!!

It might be cool to be a Rooster. I don’t have to work for my food. I just stay home and eat whenever I like. And I wake everyone up when I get up. I have a nice yard and don’t have to deal with city people or noises. And when my owner says he has a giant cock, I can laugh because we all know he’s talking about me.

I definitely wouldn’t want to be a donkey again. It’s overplayed since those damn Shrek movies. It got old real quick–like Home Alone. I mean, how many times can you forget your damn kid at home before a prison sentence happens? And how can those criminals be that stupid more than once? And don’t even get me started about The Fast and the Furious. What number are we up to now? 11? At their ages, who can believe they are either fast or furious at this point? They need to retire. As does this tangent.

Maybe I’d like to be a lioness–the Queen of the jungle. She’s the most feared creature out there. She has the respect of everyone. She can eat anything she wants, doesn’t have to concern herself with her environment, and she stays warm in the winter. That sounds ideal!

On second thought, I do think I would want to be a bird. Only I would want to be a free-roaming parakeet. I would fly around and tell everyone about themselves. And there would be no repercussions because I am a protected species. I would fly around and run my mouth–just like I do now–only in a much more fun and distinctive voice. I’d fly through the hood and tell those little hoodrats to pull their pants up, turn their shit music down, and stop smoking shitty weed. I would fly through the streets and stop at intersections and spew road rage because these assholes are either not using their turn signals or they’ve had them on for the last five miles. And don’t get me started on slow people in the fast lane. I’d fly into bars and instigate fights then fly away. I would fly to the schools in the suburbs and tell all of those little bastards they are not thugs, gangsters, or drug dealers. I would go to baseball games and taunt players. I would tell batters to swing at balls then tell them they’re going slow when running bases. I would go to ice cream stands and dive right at people so they’d get scared and drop their ice cream so I could have it. And I guess–if there’s time–I’d shit all over the people who deserve it. You know…help Karma along its way.