Monday, April 27, 2009

FYP Says That Stingrays Forget That Their Name Is a Dead Giveaway

In Response to FYP Says Stingrays Forget Their Name Is a Dead Giveaway

Fuck you, Fuck You, Penguin! How dare you withhold your hugs and flaunt in my face all the other rays you're willing to embrace. It's cruel people like you who are the reason the Crocodile Hunter had to go. Surrender your love, or others shall die!

Saturday, April 25, 2009

FYP Feels That Tasmanian Devils Misrepresent Themselves

Fuck You, Fuck You Penguin! We need to get a couple of things cleared up.

1) Misrepresent? Give me a break. What kind of moron can't tell the difference between a drawing and a photo? That profile picture is a caricature of me that I got done last summer by one of those idiots at Six Flags. I mean c'mon! I'm hugging a giant red heart in it! Did you really think that was a photo? Get some glasses, Fuck You, Penguin.

2) You are a fucking crazy-ass stalker! Who the hell asked you to come to Tasmania in the first place? It wasn't me, you psycho. I was all happy living the life--screeching, smelling like I rolled in shit, hunting, scavenging and generally being one mother-fucking excellent carnivorous marsupial. Then you showed up, you stinking swamp witch, saying we had made some sort of online love connection! What the fuck? You almost ruined my relationship with Mindy, my girlfriend of seven months. Obviously, you read way too much into that clever comment I posted when you tore rabbits a new one (those shitheads totally deserve to be the target of your attacks). Be warned, I've gone to the courts and obtained a restraining order. Fuck You, Penguin, you are no longer allowed within a thousand feet of my habitat. Bitch.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Seahorses Make FYP Less Interested in Real Horses

Fuck you, Fuck You, Penguin! I am so sorry that my existence as a seahorse has made you lose interest in "actual" horses. However, it seems to me that you might have things backwards.

Scientists agree that life started in the seas, and therefore, my kind was on this planet swimming happily eons before actual horses even fucking thought about existing. It is not my fault that humans couldn't come up with a unique name to describe me, and instead--with their usual display of laziness--just slapped together the word for where I live with the name of a land mammal that I only somewhat resemble.

You see, Fuck You, Penguin, I do not have the head of a horse: Horses have the head of my kind. Get it straight. I was here first.