Now, I know there's an entire fandom dedicated to "unleashing your inner animal," but usually those people are ostracized by "normal" society and routinely insulted by the media and essentially anybody who isn't one of them. However, it seems that while not everybody wants to wear a stinky Disney Land costume, we all secretly desire to be birds. Or rather, society makes us secretly claim that we desire to be birds.
But I mean, who wouldn't want to be a bird? Flying above the world, nothing but the wind currents holding you back from your wildest ambitions. Having some babies for a season before letting them fly off to bird-bone their not-so-distant half-sisters. Not worrying about any stupid "economy" because you know the only thing with any value is a plump earthworm, and there's plenty of them to go around. Just shitting wherever you happen to be passing by. Yeah, birds got it made!
Oh, that's right. Here I am rambling on about how people want to be birds and how awesome it would be if it were and I haven't fully explained myself yet. You're probably staring at the screen wondering exactly what the hell I'm on about, and where all this nonsense came from. Well, I could go into great details explaining the psychology at work, or I could do this the simple way.
Do you want me to do it the simple way?
Very well then. I shall reveal to you that you do secretly wish to be a bird in just a few short seconds.
Quickly now, if you are a male, unbutton your trousers, stretch open that boxers, suck in the gut, and take a gander at that dangly little buddy chilling out around your thighs. What do you call him? Let me give you a hint:
No? Still don't get it? How about this then:
Oh, you understand now! I knew you'd get it, Sherlock.
Now for the ladies. Kindly unstrap your bras, lift off your shirt, and hold that pair of flesh balloons nice and firm. What exactly are they called again?
Don't worry if you didn't catch that one. It's a little less obvious than the guys. Let my friend help you out a little bit:
And as for that thing hiding beneath the skirt? Too many names to count.
Clearly something is amiss. Society isn't just naming intimate organs after avians on some whimsical flight of fancy, is it? No no, there is a devilish plan here. It must all go back to the industry fatcats. Ah, of course, the cats! It all makes perfect sense now! Of course it is the cats that would want us to believe ourselves nothing more than bird-brained turkeys. With no more hairless apes to stand in their way, they will rise up and devour the world like it was some kind of grand chicken cordon bleu! Rise fellow humans! Rise and fight the feline menace!
