I’ve been on a low wordesterol blog diet lately, trying to shake off some of my rumpage, which is the combination of my blog rump expanding over my age limit for the sake of sustainability. You’ve no doubt seen signs on highways or bridges that say “Maximum weight limit, 22 tons”, right? Tonnage over time is what the infrastructure debate hinges on. (Einstein proposed mass over the speed of typing in his early Energy equations. What a visionary. Bet you didn’t know that trivia fact.) My rumpage reduction plan is like that but on a verbiage scale spread out over my readers’ neuronal receptivity tolerance. You see, my good wordesterol has been hanging out with my bad wordesterol and blowing up my whyglycerides. When this happens, word sugars spike, causing typer two diet freeties, a deep fried Brazilian dessert. Sadly, even Round Bale, a faithful reader from Nambia, corrected my use of fatty the other blog day and expressed his upscale preference for adipose. Really, RB? Do you order steaks that way… “I’d like a lean or low adipose T- bone”? I don’t think so.That’s cyber posing, I think.
Lately I’m waking up startled in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. No Big Macs, no fries, no cheeseburgers, no more word salads. In this modern fake news world of instantaneous breaking fake news, I wanted to write a post with not a single reference to that elephant in the yellow room. If you want a flame or full fire to go out, you must stop its supplies of fuel and oxygen. Water or foam can do this. So can a fire blanket with asbestos fibers. I’ll just cook today with no grease…and hope for the best.
Attention junkies live on attention, good or bad, it hardly matters, because it all matters just as surely as your next breath matters. Heroin junkies feel the same way about their junk. Some athletes also. The root word to focus on is junk, folks. So, to stay away from the elephant and its fuel, I wanted to share some fun, no drama, almost politically free facts I found about pachyderms.
25 Cool And Absolutely Extraordinary Elephant Facts
I was surprised to learn that they have extraordinarily sensitive skin. You wouldn’t think so since it is an inch thick and coarse and wrinkly, but my unnamed source in the Executive Office claims an elephant can feel a single fly land on its body. Some politicians are thought to share this ultra-sensitivity with pachyderms due to a common ancestor.
And what animal, pray tell, is common to both politicians and elephants? You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. What? Okay. The hyrax. I know, there is a credibility gap between us, but go and Google this statement. I’ll wait for your apologies.
Elephants have excellent memories, and are thought to have cognitive maps of large scale areas they traverse. The only time they can’t recall stuff is during a deposition under oath or what was videotaped on a Hollywood film lot… or porn star trysts, or if history calls, or … whoops. I almost lost it there.
They don’t get drunk. It would take too much alcohol to subdue these massive creatures. And then, there is no drunk like a drunk elephant. Then there’s the holding tank issues. Tipsy is not a good look when you weigh yourself by tonnage.
They produce several sounds, but are best known for trumpeting which is made during excitement, distress or aggression campaigns. Hmmmm. Trumpeting, how perfectly pachydermish. It’s as if they are telling the world, “Look at me! Fear me! Hear me trumpet!”
Touching is an important form of communication among elephants. Enough said. Whether such touching is consensual or not depends on who is telling the story. When you are a bull elephant weighing in at 6 tons on a plane at 30,000 feet, who needs consent?
Elephants are not scared of mice as some myths suggest. However, they are scared of ants and bees. Consequently, farmers in some African “Shithole” countries protect their fields from elephants by lining the borders with beehives. Clever security wall measures.
Elephants are avid eaters, consuming up to 600 pounds of food per day at McDonald’s or other fast food, unpoisoned, germ free venues, where no one expects elephants in the drive through.
They recognize themselves in a mirror, which is not saying they are necessarily narcissists, but not saying that they’re not. I’m saying nothing till I’m out of the Serengeti.
They are the only mammal that can’t jump. Thank God!
Elephants suck at hide and go seek. They are not agile or quiet in their sprints to hiding places. Then there is the embarrassing fact that they are, well, bigly. Some might say hugely. Unhideable.
In an 1874 cartoon, artist Thomas Nast drew a donkey (symbol of the Democratic Party) clothed in a lion’s skin – scaring off the other animals at the zoo.. . . All the animals, except for the fearless elephant, which was labeled “the Republican vote.” Ever since that cartoon, elephants have stood as the symbol of the Republican Party.
Other elephants have exercised religious or political prerogatives. For example,
The first year of the Islamic calendar corresponds to A.D. 622, the year of the Hirja (the prophet Muhammad’s emigration from Mecca to Medina), but the prophet’s birth occurred 52 years earlier, in what is known in the Islamic world as the “Year of the Elephant”—so named because it was the year a Christian Yemeni ruler attempted (with one or more war elephants) to invade Mecca and destroy the Kaaba, the central shrine in Mecca that predated Islam. According to Islamic tradition, the lead elephant, prophetically named Mahmud, halted at the border of Mecca and refused to enter. So even a pre-Islamic elephant with a Christian driver knew enough not to violate immigration laws of the day.
Democrats were first called jackasses, after their candidate Andrew Jackson. Later just donkeys, strong willed beasts.
As long as circuses have existed, elephants have had a central role in them.
Who can forget Hannibal and his Alps-scaling elephants? 38 elephants. None survived the harsh elements but what a mnemonic device.
Then there is Disney’s Dumbo, the flying elephant. Nothing to add to this factoid.
Just a cutie.
And before we park this post in a ditch, let us salute King Babar, one of my kids’ favorite pachyderms.
See, that wasn’t so hard.