January 4: The dolphin whisperer
I first saw a dolphin at Sea World. I was 11. The dolphin jumped in
the air. I applauded. So did everyone else in the audience. More than 10
years later, someone told me that this was cruel.
“How would you like to be taken away from your home and forced to perform for people?” he asked.
I said I probably wouldn’t like it and then I felt bad for enjoying the dolphin show at Sea World. Then I thought about it some more and realized that the reason I wouldn’t like being taken away from my home is that I would no longer be able to pursue my dreams. I wanted to be an actor. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a magician. I couldn’t very well do that if I was being coaxed to jump through a hoop every day at two in the afternoon.
So the analogy was bad. Dolphins don’t dream about writing books or making the Statue of Liberty disappear. They dream of jumping around and going “ark ark.” Heck, living at Sea World would be an awesome thing if you were a dolphin. You wouldn’t have to worry about predators eating you.
Do dolphins have predators? I don’t know. Who cares? Let’s switch animals.
Zebras have predators. I know this because I saw a National Geographic special where there were a whole bunch of zebras crossing a river and this crocodile came up and ate one. The zebra was screaming and bleeding. I bet it hurt a lot. If that zebra were taken to a zoo, he wouldn’t have to worry about crocodiles because they’d all be kept in another pen.
Zoos aren’t cruel. They are the best thing to happen to animals. If you’re a wild animal and you’re in the zoo, you just won the lottery.
*
At Sea World, there are people whose job it is to train the dolphins. They are the dolphin whisperers. They spend years at university where they learn the special dolphin language. One sentence means “jump through the hoop.” Another sentence means “you three do a backflip together.” Another one means “I have dead fish for you to eat.” Still another one means “screw this show up and you’ll be in tuna cans tomorrow.”
*
I’m pissed off at Jeff B, who gave me a great title for a note the first time he did note-a-day. His title back then was “the fan” and that was just pregnant with possibility. What in the world am I supposed to do with dolphins? I know nothing about dolphins and I am too lazy to research them on the Internet in the Cornwall sports bar where I am typing this.
So uninspired was I that I decided to read a bit of Chuck Klosterman’s book Killing Yourself to Live. Chuck Klosterman is really funny. I was introduced to him by my brother, Roger, and a girl named Erin, whose favourite colour is purple and who is the biggest U2 fan in the world and who has piercing at the front of her tongue, not the middle..
I met Erin in Vancouver in the summer of 2003. At the time she worked at the Body Shoppe. She has red hair and she is Irish and is a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs. When I visited her at her apartment, she dyed my hair. I can’t remember if I took my shirt off so she could dye it better. I remember that her hands felt amazing in my hair. On her wall was a bulletin board and on it was a picture she took of herself in a photo booth. There were blue curtains in the background and she was tilting her head to the left. I also remember a quote board on her wall. I think one of the quotes was about dolphins, which would be an amazing serendipitous thing if it was.
The above paragraph was inspired by Chuck Klosterman, who will never read this.
There’s a lesson here, kids. If you’re ever hit by writer’s block, READ!!!
*
I have just finished reading the first chapter of the Klosterman book and I have decided he is twice as funny as I am. You should stop reading this blog (or book if a publisher ever reads this blog and thinks he can make some money by putting these things in print) and go read something Chuck Klosterman wrote.
*
I am going to pretend that Chuck Klosterman is sitting in the booth across from me here at Shoeless Joe’s in Cornwall, Ontario. We are drinking Dr. Pepper and eating garlic bread and Cajun spice dusted chicken wings. I am mad because the Calgary Flames are losing to the Tampa Bay Lightning 2-0 after two periods. The restaurant’s music system is playing Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, which used to be my absolute favourite song in the world in the summer of 1987 and the only thing shitty about that summer is that my good friend, Larry, stole the girl who I thought was my girlfriend away from me. They even went to the waterslides at West Edmonton Mall together. (Coincidence: At West Edmonton Mall, there are dolphins.)
Shteevie: Chuck Klosterman, do you think there’s such a thing as a dolphin whisperer?
Chuck: No.
(There is a brief pause in the narrative as I realize that my laptop is about to die and I go running around the restaurant looking for an outlet. The restaurant manager helps me get my computer plugged into the outlet that is located directly behind the small TV where I am watching the Flames lose. The manager is an attractive blonde woman in her early 30s. She is a TT, or Tooth Twin. This is the name I give to everyone who, like me, has a space between their incisors. It is a scientific fact that Tooth Twins have superior intellects, are exceptionally talented, and know how to cook mean lobster bisques.)
(We now return you to my conversation with Chuck Klosterman.)
Shteevie: Why do you say that?
Chuck: Because dolphins don’t need whisperers. Dolphins are smarter than people.
Shteevie: I remember this Caramilk chocolate bar commercial when I was a kid. There were these scientists on a boat and they were talking to dolphins and one of them asked how they got the Caramilk inside the Caramilk bar and one of the dolphins said: “You mean you don’t know?” and then they all started laughing.
Chuck: That was probably the dumbest advertising campaign in American history. Did anyone seriously wonder how they got the Caramel inside the Caramilk bar?
Shteevie: I sure didn’t. I imagine they just froze the caramel and then poured chocolate around it. The Caramilk melted when the rest of the bar returned to room temperature.
Chuck: You figured that out at age nine?
Shteevie: I sure did. So did all the other kids at St. Gerard’s who had spaces between their teeth.
Chuck: Waitress, could I get a glass of Cognac?
Waitress: Of course.
Shteevie: Do you know what I just realized? I’m annoyed by people whose first initial and last initial are identical. Like if your name is Ben Bishop or Janet Jones or, even worse, J. Jonah Jameson. Do you think it’s neurotic of me to dislike that?
Chuck: So if Amy Adams asked you for a date, you’d turn her down because her initials are AA?
Shteevie: I think I’d be uncomfortable dating any celebrity. I’m not sure if I’m a celebrity. I mean… I guess I’m a celebrity in my neck of the woods because I edit the newspaper and everybody in my county knows me, but I’m Mr. Nobody when I go to Cornwall.
Chuck: Wow. The Flames sure suck on the power play.
(The restaurant music system begins playing The Final Countown by Europe.)
Shteevie: I have a theory about why people are passionate about saving dolphins.
Waitress: Here’s your Cognac.
Chuck: Thanks. (To me.) What’s that?
Shteevie: People are passionate about saving cute animals but not non-cute animals. Dolphins are cute. So are pandas and St. Bernard puppies and polar bears. But chickens are ugly. That’s why you don’t see many save-the-chicken campaigns.
Chuck: Why don’t you quit being a lazy ass and just google dolphin whisperer and see what comes up?
Shteevie: Okay. (types into computer.) Wow. Look at this, there’s a website called Dolphin Whisperers and they specialize in taking people into the sea to go swimming with dolphins. I bet the trips cost more than a ticket to watch the Flames play hockey.
Chuck: I guess I was wrong. There is such a thing as a dolphin whisperer.
Shteevie: I haven’t seen the movie The Horse Whisperer. I think this whole conversation about dolphin whisperers would make more sense if I had any idea of what it means to be any sort of animal whisperer. I mean, I know there are dog whisperers but I don’t think there’s chicken whisperers or penguin whisperers or praying mantis whisperers.
Chuck: I haven’t seen it either. I’m not sure I could stomach seeing Kristin Scott Thomas in anything after I saw Under the Cherry Moon.
Shteevie: If you stuck a cherry between your butt cheeks and then you went to the top of a skyscraper and dropped your pants, do you think everyone below would be under the cherry moon?
Chuck: They would be under A cherry moon, not the cherry moon. Who’s to say that your ass and your cherry are the definitive cherry moon?
Shteevie: What if Prince did?
Chuck: I’m glad you mention Prince because he actually wrote a song called Dolphin.
Shteevie: He sure did. It’s from his 1995 album The Gold Experience.
Chuck: Let’s share some of the lyrics here.
Shteevie: Let’s.
How beautiful do the words have to be
Before they conquer every heart?
How will you know if I'm even in the right key
If you make me stop before I start?
If I came back as a dolphin, would you listen to me then?
Would you let me be your friend? Would you let me in?
You can cut off all my fins but to your ways I will not bend
I'll die before I let you tell me how to swim
And I'll come back again as a dolphin
*
I’ll come back again. Tomorrow. I still don’t know what I’m writing about. Eeeeeeeee.
As I leave the bar, the music system begins playing Die Another Day by Madonna.
This seems appropriate but I don't know why.
Perhaps the dolphins can explain.
“How would you like to be taken away from your home and forced to perform for people?” he asked.
I said I probably wouldn’t like it and then I felt bad for enjoying the dolphin show at Sea World. Then I thought about it some more and realized that the reason I wouldn’t like being taken away from my home is that I would no longer be able to pursue my dreams. I wanted to be an actor. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a magician. I couldn’t very well do that if I was being coaxed to jump through a hoop every day at two in the afternoon.
I wanna go to Sea World
So the analogy was bad. Dolphins don’t dream about writing books or making the Statue of Liberty disappear. They dream of jumping around and going “ark ark.” Heck, living at Sea World would be an awesome thing if you were a dolphin. You wouldn’t have to worry about predators eating you.
Do dolphins have predators? I don’t know. Who cares? Let’s switch animals.
Zebras have predators. I know this because I saw a National Geographic special where there were a whole bunch of zebras crossing a river and this crocodile came up and ate one. The zebra was screaming and bleeding. I bet it hurt a lot. If that zebra were taken to a zoo, he wouldn’t have to worry about crocodiles because they’d all be kept in another pen.
Zoos aren’t cruel. They are the best thing to happen to animals. If you’re a wild animal and you’re in the zoo, you just won the lottery.
*
At Sea World, there are people whose job it is to train the dolphins. They are the dolphin whisperers. They spend years at university where they learn the special dolphin language. One sentence means “jump through the hoop.” Another sentence means “you three do a backflip together.” Another one means “I have dead fish for you to eat.” Still another one means “screw this show up and you’ll be in tuna cans tomorrow.”
*
I’m pissed off at Jeff B, who gave me a great title for a note the first time he did note-a-day. His title back then was “the fan” and that was just pregnant with possibility. What in the world am I supposed to do with dolphins? I know nothing about dolphins and I am too lazy to research them on the Internet in the Cornwall sports bar where I am typing this.
So uninspired was I that I decided to read a bit of Chuck Klosterman’s book Killing Yourself to Live. Chuck Klosterman is really funny. I was introduced to him by my brother, Roger, and a girl named Erin, whose favourite colour is purple and who is the biggest U2 fan in the world and who has piercing at the front of her tongue, not the middle..
I met Erin in Vancouver in the summer of 2003. At the time she worked at the Body Shoppe. She has red hair and she is Irish and is a fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs. When I visited her at her apartment, she dyed my hair. I can’t remember if I took my shirt off so she could dye it better. I remember that her hands felt amazing in my hair. On her wall was a bulletin board and on it was a picture she took of herself in a photo booth. There were blue curtains in the background and she was tilting her head to the left. I also remember a quote board on her wall. I think one of the quotes was about dolphins, which would be an amazing serendipitous thing if it was.
The above paragraph was inspired by Chuck Klosterman, who will never read this.
There’s a lesson here, kids. If you’re ever hit by writer’s block, READ!!!
I'm funnier than Shteevie, but he's cuter.
*
I have just finished reading the first chapter of the Klosterman book and I have decided he is twice as funny as I am. You should stop reading this blog (or book if a publisher ever reads this blog and thinks he can make some money by putting these things in print) and go read something Chuck Klosterman wrote.
*
I am going to pretend that Chuck Klosterman is sitting in the booth across from me here at Shoeless Joe’s in Cornwall, Ontario. We are drinking Dr. Pepper and eating garlic bread and Cajun spice dusted chicken wings. I am mad because the Calgary Flames are losing to the Tampa Bay Lightning 2-0 after two periods. The restaurant’s music system is playing Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, which used to be my absolute favourite song in the world in the summer of 1987 and the only thing shitty about that summer is that my good friend, Larry, stole the girl who I thought was my girlfriend away from me. They even went to the waterslides at West Edmonton Mall together. (Coincidence: At West Edmonton Mall, there are dolphins.)
Shteevie: Chuck Klosterman, do you think there’s such a thing as a dolphin whisperer?
Chuck: No.
(There is a brief pause in the narrative as I realize that my laptop is about to die and I go running around the restaurant looking for an outlet. The restaurant manager helps me get my computer plugged into the outlet that is located directly behind the small TV where I am watching the Flames lose. The manager is an attractive blonde woman in her early 30s. She is a TT, or Tooth Twin. This is the name I give to everyone who, like me, has a space between their incisors. It is a scientific fact that Tooth Twins have superior intellects, are exceptionally talented, and know how to cook mean lobster bisques.)
(We now return you to my conversation with Chuck Klosterman.)
Shteevie: Why do you say that?
Chuck: Because dolphins don’t need whisperers. Dolphins are smarter than people.
Shteevie: I remember this Caramilk chocolate bar commercial when I was a kid. There were these scientists on a boat and they were talking to dolphins and one of them asked how they got the Caramilk inside the Caramilk bar and one of the dolphins said: “You mean you don’t know?” and then they all started laughing.
Chuck: That was probably the dumbest advertising campaign in American history. Did anyone seriously wonder how they got the Caramel inside the Caramilk bar?
Shteevie: I sure didn’t. I imagine they just froze the caramel and then poured chocolate around it. The Caramilk melted when the rest of the bar returned to room temperature.
Chuck: You figured that out at age nine?
Shteevie: I sure did. So did all the other kids at St. Gerard’s who had spaces between their teeth.
Chuck: Waitress, could I get a glass of Cognac?
Waitress: Of course.
Shteevie: Do you know what I just realized? I’m annoyed by people whose first initial and last initial are identical. Like if your name is Ben Bishop or Janet Jones or, even worse, J. Jonah Jameson. Do you think it’s neurotic of me to dislike that?
Chuck: So if Amy Adams asked you for a date, you’d turn her down because her initials are AA?
Shteevie: I think I’d be uncomfortable dating any celebrity. I’m not sure if I’m a celebrity. I mean… I guess I’m a celebrity in my neck of the woods because I edit the newspaper and everybody in my county knows me, but I’m Mr. Nobody when I go to Cornwall.
Chuck: Wow. The Flames sure suck on the power play.
(The restaurant music system begins playing The Final Countown by Europe.)
Shteevie: I have a theory about why people are passionate about saving dolphins.
Waitress: Here’s your Cognac.
Chuck: Thanks. (To me.) What’s that?
Shteevie: People are passionate about saving cute animals but not non-cute animals. Dolphins are cute. So are pandas and St. Bernard puppies and polar bears. But chickens are ugly. That’s why you don’t see many save-the-chicken campaigns.
Chuck: Why don’t you quit being a lazy ass and just google dolphin whisperer and see what comes up?
Shteevie: Okay. (types into computer.) Wow. Look at this, there’s a website called Dolphin Whisperers and they specialize in taking people into the sea to go swimming with dolphins. I bet the trips cost more than a ticket to watch the Flames play hockey.
Chuck: I guess I was wrong. There is such a thing as a dolphin whisperer.
Shteevie: I haven’t seen the movie The Horse Whisperer. I think this whole conversation about dolphin whisperers would make more sense if I had any idea of what it means to be any sort of animal whisperer. I mean, I know there are dog whisperers but I don’t think there’s chicken whisperers or penguin whisperers or praying mantis whisperers.
Oh, but there is.
Chuck: I haven’t seen it either. I’m not sure I could stomach seeing Kristin Scott Thomas in anything after I saw Under the Cherry Moon.
Shteevie: If you stuck a cherry between your butt cheeks and then you went to the top of a skyscraper and dropped your pants, do you think everyone below would be under the cherry moon?
Chuck: They would be under A cherry moon, not the cherry moon. Who’s to say that your ass and your cherry are the definitive cherry moon?
Shteevie: What if Prince did?
Chuck: I’m glad you mention Prince because he actually wrote a song called Dolphin.
Shteevie: He sure did. It’s from his 1995 album The Gold Experience.
Chuck: Let’s share some of the lyrics here.
Shteevie: Let’s.
How beautiful do the words have to be
Before they conquer every heart?
How will you know if I'm even in the right key
If you make me stop before I start?
If I came back as a dolphin, would you listen to me then?
Would you let me be your friend? Would you let me in?
You can cut off all my fins but to your ways I will not bend
I'll die before I let you tell me how to swim
And I'll come back again as a dolphin
*
I’ll come back again. Tomorrow. I still don’t know what I’m writing about. Eeeeeeeee.
As I leave the bar, the music system begins playing Die Another Day by Madonna.
This seems appropriate but I don't know why.
Perhaps the dolphins can explain.
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