Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Episode Two: The Winged Finger
This one might be a tough one to swallow, Carl.
Yes, we all know you don't believe in dinosaurs. Hence this educational series. However, it is entirely likely that you also don't believe in the evolution of species, as well, and here we may have some trouble. For today's "dinosaur" is the pterodactyl, that winged beast which many people point to as evidence that our feathered friends of today evolved from the giant reptiles of many yesterdays.
Dinosaur? Evolution? Before you throw a blunt object at your monitor, please ask yourself this question: Why am I, Carl Everett, using a computer? Surely these things can also not exist in the universe you inhabit.
But once you've come to terms with technology, let me attempt to justify the pterodactyl for you. First and foremost, it may not exactly be a dinosaur. Quoth Wiki (pedia, not Gonzalez):
"Prehistoric flying reptiles are sometimes referred to as dinosaurs but this is strictly incorrect. The dinosaur term is more correctly restricted to the upright-stance terrestrial reptiles, so includes neither the flying reptiles nor the aquatic varieties, such as Ichthyosaurs, Plesiosaurs and Mosasaurs."
Well, that's a start. Not strictly a dinosaur. So there may be, hope against hope, a chance for this majestic beast to fit within your worldview. But ah, yes, the ever-present roadblock of "prehistoric." "How can anything be pre-history?" you're asking yourself. "Surely nothing can exist before history, because history begins with man, and nothing preceded man, and certainly not any giant flying lizards, for is it not written that Noah took two of every animal onto his Ark, and thus saved the beasts of the Earth from the wrath of our Lord?" Or maybe I am confusing you with that crazy preacher guy on TV. Yeah, that's probably it.
Regardless, a flying lizard, dinosaur or no, is going to be understandably difficult for you to accept. But to take a page out of your own book,* Carl, I will destroy your inherent disgust for the idea of a pterodactyl by utilizing a lack of any research and little capacity for reason. Did you know:
--Pterodactyls, not storks as is commonly believed, deliver babies?
--The original name for the "screwball" was the "pterodactyl," because of the similarity between the screwball's trajectory and that of a pterodactyl swooping down upon its prey? And none other than Ty Cobb coined this term, and you can't argue with those kinds of intellectual credentials.
--Ozzie Guillen's mother is, in fact, a pterodactyl? This explains your simmering hatred for your former skipper. Also he is Ozzie Guillen, but he can't help that.
--Pterodactyls can be summoned by simply arranging a set of runes in a "V" pattern on the outfield grass? It's true. When summoned, pterodactyls can be bade to claw the eyes out of any umpire who wrongs you on that day. For a small fee, they may also claw out the eyes of your manager, but will unfortunately leave your team's plucky utility man unharmed. For this purpose, you must summon a triceratops.
So you see, plenty of reasons to love the pterodactyl. The knowledge that Ozzie Guillen's father knocked up a pterodactyl should be more than enough to launch another scathing attack on him, and making such knowledge public could very well destroy him. Sure, the pterodactyl embodies much of what you loathe and despise--dinosaurs, screwballs, Ozzie Guillen--but it also helps fuel your anger and forge your determination to continue to occupy roster spots better suited for more talented players. Whereas the T. Rex is a kindred spirit, the pterodactyl is a mortal enemy--and you, Carl Everett, are a man reliant on having mortal enemies.
The pterodactyl completes you. Please don't deny it any longer.
* Suggested title: Patrick Sheehan, I am suing you for slander.