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April 08, 2015
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After 112 years of scientists relegating genus Brontosaurus excelsus to the dustbin of history, today they declared that the Brontosaurus is back to being a real dinosaur. To which I, the brontosaurus, say, no shit. I’m real as fuck and I always have been.

Well, well, well. Bet you never thought this day would come. The day I would kick the dust of being a fake animal off my enormous feet.

But here I am. After 112 years of scientists relegating genus Brontosaurus excelsus to the dustbin of history, today they declared that the brontosaurus is back to being a real dinosaur.

To which I, the Brontosaurus, say, no shit. I’m real as fuck and I always have been.

So glad the rest of the world finally caught up with what I knew all along. Finally, I can stop hanging out with the unicorns and gryphons and all the other stupid imaginary animals and get back where I belong, with animals that are REAL, LIKE ME. But before I do, I’ve got some things to say.

Suck it, unicorns. Know who else has one horn? A goat who is broken. Also narwhals, the shittiest whale. Nobody wants to swim with the narwhals. Ever since I got made imaginary in 1903 I have had to put up with unicorns and their shit, because we were neighbors on Pluto where the imaginary animals live. I am a chill guy (herbivore), but now that I am movin’ on up, I can say this: Unicorns are the prissiest, most pretentious fake animals there are. They never want to get their shining white coats dirty and they are weirdly obsessed with human virginity. They are the creepy youth pastors of the imaginary animals world.

Hold on, I gotta chew some leaves. Mnum. Mnum. Mnum. Mnum.

Eat shit, phoenixes. Cool, you’re immortal and every hundred years you burst into flames and ignite from your own ashes. Know what that makes you? Danger parrots. You burned down my gazebo at the picnic for my son’s graduation from Thomas Jefferson Imaginary Animal Middle School. I hate sitting next to you at church, almost as much as my son Trevor hates his unicorn youth pastor. You always scorch my hymnal. Soon I will be at a bombass real animal church with like a turtle pastor or something and I’ll never smell your stanky burning feathers again.

You are the goddamn worst, rhinos. You are the least cute mammal there has ever been. Also I don’t know how you’ve managed to convince everyone that you are real. You are clearly just buff unicorns.

Fuck off, Loch Ness Monster. You look like me but you’re not me. I don’t want to date. Stop texting me. I hate getting wet.

I think that’s it. I’m putting on my cool leather jacket that says REAL ANIMAL and is also made of a real animal, how sick is that, and I’m going to a club with some zebras. Don’t wait up, losers.

Wait, I’m still extinct? FUCK

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