This message goes out to that son of a tapir, the tapir. You hear me, tapir? Listen up and listen well, ’cause I don’t want any of the subtleties of this message to slip out of that stupid head of yours.


Shut your ugly mouth when I’m talking, son.

Normally I don’t do this, tapir, but you’ve been begging for it. You’ve been pleading for it with every time you let that ugly punchable mug of yours out of the bag you keep it in. This isn’t a rating, tapir. This is a mercy-kill and I’m your Dr. Kevorkian.

What even are you? No orgy in the history of sex has been as immediately regretted as the unholy alliance of rhino, horse, and zebra that must have led to you crawling out of the ensuing ooze. Your trunk is too short to do anything of real use, but just long enough to make you one ugly sucker. Those short bristly hairs that cover your whole fat body aren’t doing you any favors either, pal. You look like the Elephant Man of elephants cosplaying as a black-and-white cookie.

Let me be clear. This isn’t just about appearances. I’m not shallow like that, tapir. This is about you being a trashy, classless redneck. You go home each night and look with pride on your wardrobe consisting entirely of Big Dawg sweatshirts and Tweety Bird apparel. “Behind Blue Eyes” is your favorite Who song, tapir. At any given moment in time, I got even odds you’re in a Wal-Mart parking lot with an empty case of PBR, paw hovering over the last button to drunk dial a white girl named Darlene.

More than that, tapir, this is about you being a coward. You’re so dumb and scared of getting wet, you try to dodge your chubby butt through the raindrops.

"Not my toesies!"

“Ooh no, is it safe? I better just touch it with my toesies!”

Meanwhile, and paradoxically, you love mud with your miserable life. You’re nasty, ya dirty bird. You disgust me.

What if it fought a bear?

No bear is gonna get its claws on you, tapir. Not before you feel my heel on your throat as I pose for my new profile picture for social media sites. I’m talking about Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus, LinkedIn, Farmers Only. I’m gonna beat you so hard it updates MySpace. This is serious.

Is it noble?


Final rating

Do you see what happens when you go up against the best animal rater in the game? Do you see what you get when you antagonize your superior? No, you don’t. Not yet. But you will. I will find you, tapir. I will go anywhere[1] on this blue marble I need to and I will end you.





[1]Except North Dakota. It knows why.

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One thought on “Tapir

  1. […] I’m not going to shy away from the elephant in the room.* The aardvark is famous for being the alphabetically first animal. I like to think you are secure enough in yourself to admit that this fact is the first thing that came to mind when you read the word “aardvark.” The aardvark named itself so in a blatant act of self-aggrandizement and overcompensation, well aware that were it not for this name, it would be no better regarded than the lowly tapir. […]

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