An Old Dolphin

There's no point in avoiding the issue anymore: I'm old. Like really old. Like fifty-something. Most dolphins don't live past 40. I may be the oldest dolphin who ever lived.

I'm not really feeling my age. I can still swim and party like I used to. But not everybody feels that way. Some of the more knowledgable zoologists think it's time to put me down.

Now before you go freaking out about my impending death, let me explain a couple things to you. First, everybody dies, so suck it up. Second, I went to the doctor yesterday, and it turns out almost all my vital organs are cancerous. I did not see that coming.

I haven't decided if I'm going to let them do it or if I'm going to live out the rest of my natural life. Either way, I'll try to post from beyond the grave, but I don't know how that stuff works. I hear they don't have too many computers in heaven.

The One Time a Year When I Wear a Monocle

This weekend is my annual Flag Day party. I use "my" loosely because I don't actually host it. I just find one to attend every year. I suppose I also use "Flag Day" loosely because the party usually has nothing to do with that. Actually, I'm pretty sure I've never crashed a party this close to Flag Day before. It's just a bunch of rich snobs hanging out at a country club and wearing tuxes or whatever. So I'm about to don my custom tuxedo (it's my only piece of clothing that I didn't have to cut a hole for dorsal fin) and top hat, pick up my cane and monocle, and fake being rich and snobby at the local fancy place.

Here's what last year's party was pretty much like:

RICH GUY #1: Pleasure to meet you, Mr. ...
ME: Billionaire. Mr. Roger Flippington Billionaire.
RICH GUY #1: That's quite an impressive...name you have there.
ME: Yes. Quite. Do you have a cigar?
RICH GUY #1: I don't think I've ever seen someone of your...complexion smoke a cigar.
ME: I do it often. Frequently, in fact.
RICH GUY #2: (walking up to join the conversation) Good God! Who invited this--
RICH GUY #1: Fine gentleman is Mr. Billionaire.
RICH GUY #2: Ahem. Yes. A pleasure. It's no wonder, with a monocle like that....
ME: I make an effort to have a monocle on hand for every occasion. Nothing shows people that I'm better than them like a monocle.
RICH GUY #2: Are you a member of this club Mr. ...?
ME: Billionaire.
RICH GUY #2: Yes, Mr. Billionaire.
ME: I most certainly am.
RICH GUY #2: I was under the impression that we did not allow beasts into the club.
RICH GUY #1: Go easy on the chap, Carlton.
ME: Well, good sir, I have already eaten all the free food this soiree has to offer, I have befouled the swimming pool, and I've laughed haughtily at more than a few jokes I did not understand, so I believe the point is moot. Good day.
RICH GUY #1: (as I walk away) There goes the most fantastic creature I've ever met.

The World Cup

I think there's something in the subtitle to this blog saying I discuss soccer. That was originally a bluff, but since the World Cup's going on, I might as well deliver.

So let's take a look at the matches. First the ones already played.

Germany v. Costa Rica, Germany wins 4-2: Home field advantage, man. I doubt there are enough Costa Ricans to even fill that stadium.

Poland v. Ecuador, Ecuador wins 2-0: I'm not too surprised when the former Eastern Bloc countries lose. Plus I think that Ecuador has harnessed the power of the equator better than any other soccer team before them.

England v. Paraguay, England wins 1-0: I like Paraguay and everything, but come on England. 1-0? Weak.

Sweden v. Trinidad & Tobago, Tie 0-0: As much as 0-0 ties prove the absolute futility of this game, I'm amazed by the tenacity of the Trinidadian team, especially since they were playing a man down. I think I know some of those guys from my South American days. Arriba!

Argentina v. Ivory Coast, Argentina wins 2-1: Check this out--

This is what I call a fan. He is the one and only reason I hope the Ivory Coast wins it all.

Serbia and Montenegro v. Netherlands, Netherlands wins 1-0: Got to be two of the most boring countries ever. I really really don't care.

Mexico v. Iran, Mexico wins 3-1: That's what you get for being terrorists, Iran. Allah's judgment against you is a loss in a soccer match.

Angola v. Portugal, Portugal wins 1-0: There's a soft spot in my heart for Angola that I can't explain, and I guess ultimately I don't care, because the only team in their group I want them to beat is Iran.

Italy v. Ghana, Italy wins 2-0: Did anyone not expect this? I mean, I cheered for Ghana and whatever, but seriously. We're not living in a dreamworld.

USA v. Czech Republic, Czech wins 3-0: This is the one time I'm not surprised when a former Eastern Bloc country wins. USA sucks.

Australia v. Japan, Australia wins 3-1: This is just an oddball match. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't make sense to me.

South Korea v. Togo, South Korea wins 2-1: I guess I like South Korea. But I think it's just hard to like a team whose country has about as much square footage as Connecticut. Which is a shame because I've heard good things about Togo.

That does it for the completed games, now how about the first round games to come?

Brazil v. Croatia: For all the made-up stories about Brazilian soccer team plance crashes I've heard, I still think Brazil will win. It'd take more than four or five plane crashes wiping out dozens of major players to make a difference in this match.

France v. Switzerland: I can't imagine either country caring about this game. You've got the snobs of all snobdom on hand one, and then there's the paragon of neutrality on hand two. I predict a wine and cheese party.

Spain v. Ukraine: A rhyming match! I pick Spain because it's easier to rhyme to with single-syllable words.

Tunisia v. Saudi Arabia: I pick the Saudis. For no reason in particular.

See you in a couple weeks for round 2!

Jessica Alba

A good friend of mine directed me to an article recently that quoted Jessica Alba as saying something like she's so hot she turns dolphins on. I can't speak for the specific dolphins she was with, but she's probably right. I mean, she's pretty hot.

But there are two things that concern me more about this article.

Number One. This happened on the set for a filming of a show called "Flipper." I hope this has nothing to do with me. Because I own the rights to that name. No one can use it without first consulting me. I smell a lawsuit. (Hopefully that'll give me a chance to meet Jessica.)

Number Two. This definitively proves that reincarnation happens. That's the only way to explain this. Dolphins don't find humans attractive unless the dolphin involved used to be human. I'm really starting to think that there's not a real dolphin out there. Just a bunch of former humans. Almost makes me think all you humans are destined for life as a dolphin. I anxiously await the day Jessica Alba dies and becomes a dolphin. Unless she becomes a fat dolphin.

Where Are My Adoring Fans?

One thing I've noticed lately is that no one reads this blog. That's right, gentle reader, you are no one. If I were in a less surly mood, I would admit that you are indeed a person. I would even say that you're one of the few people I like because you read all the pointless things I have to say. But at the moment none of that is true because I am surly and you are nobody.

There was a time when I was famous. No one remembers that time anymore because they're all dead or working corporate jobs or both. The people who claim to remember that time actually only remember the 80s syndication of my show and the more-or-less ironic adulation that followed. I certainly appreciate adulation, though, ironic or not.

But now we have the 2000s. The cold, dark present. And no one pays attention to a 40-some-year-old dolphin anymore. Not even one who spent three glorious seasons doing tricks and catching smugglers on national television. The aftermath of fame is bitter, but it's much more bitter once you've been unfamous for over twenty years. By then people don't just not want your autograph or not want to go swimming with you; they forget you have an autograph to give, and they forget that you can swim. They forget that you exist.

If you even read this far, I don't want you to pity me for my loneliness. It's not that bad. I actually made up most of that pathetic-sounding stuff. I just really want more people to read this blog. I mean seriously. I'm a famous washed-up dolphin here, and I'm writing a blog. What else does it take?

Impressing the Ladies

Today I woke up to discover a message on my Facebook profile's wall from a high school kid named Avi. Or maybe he's not high school anymore. I don't know. But he broke one of my cardinal rules of respect for Facebook. He asked me to write on his wall. I don't think it's cool to make that request. You should just wait for it to happen. Granted, I don't write on anyone's wall unless they ask me to, but that's beside the point. So I wrote on his wall. He wanted advice on how to "impress chicks." This is what I wrote.

Flipper's advice column, episode #1.

So you want to impress the ladies. This isn't something I can explain well in a letter, but we'll give it a shot. It's also difficult because I don't really have a method. Ladies like me because I am famous and because I am a dolphin. Getting famous is hard; becoming a dolphin is harder, and I definitely don't recommend it (see that South Park where Kyle's dad becomes a dolphin--that scared the hell out of me). So if you want to impress the ladies but aren't famous or a dolphin, there's not a lot I can tell you. You could save some lives, I guess, but I've seen too many nerdy coast guards save lives and fail to get a lady to think that that's an effective method. I really think the best way for a non-famous non-dolphin to get a lady's attention is go Miami Vice. That's right. Stubble, pastels, undercover narcotics work. If Don Johnson can do it, anyone can.

Oh crap. Here comes the squid.

Your pal,
Flipper.

I can't tell if I was serious about the Don Johnson thing. Whether or not I was, I hope he does it.

Technology

Some of you may have seen the post entitled "Summer Begins" twice. This is a mistake, and it is not my fault. I accidentally posted it twice because of a system glitch. I deleted one, but thanks to another system glitch--perhaps the same one--it still appears. Blogger has no record of a second "Summer Begins" post, and yet it still insists on displaying it. This is not April Fool's day, Blogger, and I am no April Fool. I do not appreciate your abuse, nor do I appreciate you snickering and pointing at me behind my back.

The world shall soon learn a dear lesson: do not make an enemy of a dolphin.

Actually, scratch that. I'm gonna get a burrito.

Summer Begins

It's a little known fact: dolphins hate summer. It dehydrates us. It heats up our oceans and pools. It creates storms that make us dizzy. But worst of all: it brings out the bugs.

There haven't been a lot of flies or mosquitoes out yet this year--thank the Good Lord--but once they rear their ugly, miniscule heads, I FREAK OUT. It's like they've got some blood feud they need to settle against me. What did I do? I can't even swat the suckers because of the limited finspan.

I've thought of a few solutions, and I plan to try them out in the following order:
1. Dress up in a mosquito suit. If I look like one of their own, they might leave me alone. And that rhymes, so it must be true.
2. Migrate. I actually think some dolphins do this already, but I'm not sure. I guess I've been in man's world so long, I don't even know my own kind. I'm like a duck among swans, or vice versa.
3. Melt the ice caps. If the world floods, there won't be any land for the mosquitoes to live on! I haven't really thought this one out, though.
4. Cryogenic freezing. I can freeze myself for like 50 million years and hope mosquitoes are extinct by then. Or, considering how mosquitoes used to be huge in the prehistoric times, maybe the trend will continue and they'll get too small to be bothersome. And if cryogenic freezing isn't perfected, there's always time travel.
5. Kill everyone. Mosquitoes can't survive without people to suck on, right? So we get rid of the people, we get rid of the mosquitoes. End of problem.

Some small part of me hopes I'll get to number five.

Insomnia and the Breaking News

I can't sleep. My total sleepless time is now...actually, I can't figure out how many hours it's been. But I'm really freaking tired.

People seem to have this idea that fish don't sleep. This is not true. I've known a few fish really well, and they sleep a lot. They're good at it, too. Sometimes they're asleep even when their eyes are wide open. Sea mammals, on the other hand, have to close their eyes to sleep. I don't remember exactly what that had to do with what I was saying. I'm so tired right now.

But there was something else I was going to say. People are starting to abuse my mailbag. Both Scott McClellan and Princess Juliana somehow got my email address and sent me messages about lowering my mortgage and saving someone with cancer or something. I would like to point out that neither of these emails were questions, and I will not stand mockery. I served my country. I have my dignity. And whether or not those last two statements are true, spam sucks.

I was going to explain why it's impossible for me to blog without sleep, but I can't remember how it's possible for me to blog in the first place. These fins make typing cumbersome. This entry took me 12 hours to write.

Don't Ask Flipper

After four glowing successful weeks of Flipper's Mailbag, it's time for the experiment to come to an end. We all have to shoot our own Ol' Yeller at some point in our lives, and now is my time to kill my beloved pet.

Of course I wouldn't have to do this if the masses hadn't failed me. I don't include you, dear readers, in that. You didn't fail me. You sent me questions, and I rewarded you with answers and laughter (I imagine). But everyone who doesn't read this blog really let me down.

So four weeks and four questions later, here we are, without any more questions asked and without any for me to answer. It's been a good run. Now I'll go back to my original mission, as stated in the subtitle. Soccer, world politics, beer: here I come.

Of course, there's the off-chance that I get another question sometime in the distant future, in which case Ask Flipper will be resurrected, but until then, ask your parents.

It's a Conspiracy

OK, I've had just about enough of the blatant dolphinophobia in this country. Today I had two--TWO--hate crimes committed against me. This brings the total of dolphin hate crimes I've heard of to a total of, um, 4. Wait, I mean 2. I accidentally counted them twice.

The first one happened this morning. I was walking down the street to visit my bank, minding my own business, and somebody stuffed a banana in my blowhole! Who does that? Who walks around with bananas and hopes to find a dolphin to harrass? Apparently a lot of people. Or at least one person, but I've found that wherever there's one person, there's maybe some more. I almost suffocated, and nobody did anything to help me. I had to go to the hospital.

Which leads to the second thing. Instead of taking me to the real hospital, they took me veterinary hospital! Hey people, I'm a mammal like you! I get to go to the mammal hospital! I've seen people take dogs and children to the ER, and next thing you know, they'll end up at the dirty, smelly vet's too.

This is a national travesty. I urge you to write your congressperson and tell them to include dolphinophobia in their hate crime legislation. I've already written Russ Feingold a few times, but he asked me to stop. Can that count as hate crime #3? Yeah, let's do that.

Nostalgia

This doesn't happen very often, but every now and then I find myself longing for the ocean. There's not a whole lot I miss about the ocean. It doesn't have much...well, land, and I've become fairly attached to that. Land is pretty sweet.

But sometimes it just hits me: I belong in the ocean. Not just because it's where I was born (actually, I might have been born in outer space, but there's no documented evidence for that), but because it's so free. I wish it was an easy place to visit, but it's one of those places that you can't bring yourself to leave once you get there. I miss swimming, I miss beating up the starfish, I miss those scenes I used to do when I would jump out of the water just as the sun was setting and they'd do a freeze frame so you could see my silhouette in front of the sun. And I guess I miss other dolphins. Most of the time, they're jerks. The rest of the time, they're...you know what? I hate dolphins.

Actually, screw the ocean. I think I'm gonna take up littering. Or oil spilling. How do you like them apples, dolphins!

Flipper's Question Corner

I didn't post much this last week because I've been busy. Actually, that's not true. I've been in jail. Actually, that's not true either. I've been lazy. But we're at another "Question of the Day" day, so here's the question. It's from my pal Jodi.

Flip - Can I call you Flip? I'm going to anyway.

I saw your mug shot on Smoking Gun. What's the deal?

Remember - your restraining order for me is 100 yards. I've got my poking stick out.

The first time I read this question, I couldn't really tell it was a question. No offense, Jodes. I wrapped my dolphin brain around it eventually.

Yes, you can call me Flip. Most people don't, but I'm pretty sure it's because those people are not creative. The Spanish-speaking people call these people aburridos, I think. (I learned a little Spanish from a crab. Not a treasured experience.)

Before I get to question number two, I should probably explain that I don't know what Smoking Gun is...unless it's like America's Most Wanted. Because they caught my cousin Ripper for killing a lot of people. In which case, you probably saw Ripper and not me.

But if it's something different, I don't know what the deal is. When in doubt, chalk it up to fraud. Or libel. That's one of the rules I learned from being a celebrity. So the deal is probably fraud. Or libel.

Thank you for your question Jodi!


I'd also like to give a friendly "what's up" to my bros at www.askaninja.com. The Ninja answers questions; I answer questions. We've got something in common. Unfortunately I can't do the audio thing cuz I don't have any of those human speech organs, but props to the Ninja on that one. I'd like to see us team up. Maybe do "Ask a Ninja Dolphin," or something. But he'd probably have to kill me, and I probably wouldn't appreciate that.

Ask Flipper...Again

Thanks everybody for your outpouring of questions! I've received dozens of replies, and they're all much more interesting than I expected. Take this one, for instance, from Mark.

Can you tell me what you slapped those douchebag hippies with? Like,
was it your tail? Or your long mouth? Or your huge genitalia?

Before we get to the actual question, I feel like I should clarify something about dolphin anatomy. It is actually very difficult for a dolphin to move his head in a side-to-side fashion that would result in slapping someone with the "bottlenose" (which, thank you Mark, is actually a mouth). It involves a full-body motion that most dolphins tend to avoid, except for extremely dangerous situations and parties.

But to answer your question, I actually slapped the hippies with fins. Considering our positions in that vehicle, the fins were the easily the slappers of choice. After a while, though, I got bored of the same old fin slap, and I started to make it interesting. Sometimes I'd wave them to come nearer so I could tell them a secret, but then I'd slap them. Sometimes I used misdirection, waving one fin to keep them distracted and then slapping them with the other. There's really no end to the fun one can have playing with hippies.

Thanks for the question, Mark, and the rest of you remember to send your questions to flippersmailbag@gmail.com!

Me vs. Dilophosaurus

Recently I was harrassed by a certain dinosaur called a dilophosaurus. Some of you may remember this dinosaur as the cute little thing in Jurassic Park that wasted Newman from Seinfeld with some acid spit or something. This dinosaur harrassed me by saying, and I quote, "I could take you."

I dispute this claim.

I'll overlook the fact that dinosaurs are extinct and this spitting business was ungrounded speculation. That's not the issue. The issue is the face-off. This dilophosaurus is four feet tall and, aside from this acid spit crap, completely defenseless. I, however, am comparatively large and, well, similarly defenseless. But I'm resourceful and have a long, storied history of foiling many-a-smuggler, and the only thing the dilophosaurus ever took down is a slow, confused fat guy. That gives me the advantage. So assuming I can get past the spit (and trust me, that won't be a problem), this fight is smooth sailing for yours truly. I win.

This brings the tally to:
Flipper 1, Challengers 0.

Flipper's Mailbag, Part 2

Today's letter comes from Christine. She writes,

Do you have any plans to write a children's book anytime soon?

Why the hate?,
Christine

I'm not used to answering two questions at once, but I'll try. The first question will be labeled "1," and the second will be labeled "2."

1. No.
2. What hate?

Thanks for writing!


Send in your questions to flippersmailbag@gmail.com!

Fear

I've recently heard some threats that the Facebook administrative team is going to delete my facebook profile on the grounds that it is "ficticious." I am outraged. What right do they have to call me "ficticious," when it is unescapably clear that I am real. This will not stand.

Should it stand, though, I invite you, my comrades and compatriots, to send as many belligerent emails as you'd like to the facebook team (info@facebook.com) and protest their policies of profiling and discrimination against so-called fake profiles. We must stand up and protect our rights!

Also protect the rights of Wok of Shame and One Nightstand.

Flipper's Mailbag, Episode 1

Your response to the mailbag was overwhelming. I got three letters! That means, assuming I make this a weekly event, I'll have three whole weeks of questions to answer! YES!

So question number one comes from someone with the initial "J." "J" writes:
Can you explain the 5 tenants of Calvinism?

While I could be a jerk and answer simply, "Yes I can," I will instead explain them. However, I don't know anything about anything about Calvinism, so I'm going to stick with my trademark smart-assery.

The 5 Tenets of Calvin-and-Hobbesism
1. Tigers are Awesome
In the Calvin and Hobbes world, the Tiger is second only to the Boy. The Tiger provides wise counsel, witty and sarcastic comments, and a wondrous existence (also known as the 3 Ws, or the Trinity). In a sense the Tiger is our guide in our new life.

2. Ugly and Annoying Are the Girls
There's no room for girls if you're a follower of Calivn and Hobbes. They can be tempting, but you must remember that it is much better to chuck snowballs at them or make fun of them.

3. Lawyers? Not Likely.
We are not going to be lawyers when we grow up. End of story.

4. Imagination is How to Live
Let's face it, the real world both sucks and is boring. We need to use our imaginations if we're ever going to survive. This means cloning machines, dinosaur worlds, space battles, and such and such. Without them, we're nothing.

5. Parents Are Evil but Necessary
We all know that parents are the bane of our existence. They try to feed us vegetables and get us to bed at a reasonable time, and it probably violates some major human rights. On the other hand, they save us from monsters under the bed, so we have to compromise.

(NOTE: I actually did some research--gasp--but I could not determine whether or not it was the five "tenets" or "tenants." This is probably where a dolphin's understanding of the English language will get us nowhere.)


Send in your questions to flippersmailbag@gmail.com!

Flipper Interactive

Originally I wanted to wait until I had a wider readership to launch this, but seeing as that's never going to happen, I'm launching it now.

Operation: Flipper's Mailbag!

Send in your questions to the all-knowing (well, nearly all-knowing) Flipper, and have them answered in a weekly feature! Ask me about world news. Ask me about movie times. Ask me about the weather. Or ask me about something you wouldn't find in your local newspaper. You could even ask me about your future. I'm not psychic, but I can try!

I will set up an email account for the mailbag later. I'm pretty tired right now. But I will tell you right now: if I don't get any questions, I will make some up and put your name on them. That will be embarrassing.

Now the address: Send Flipper your questions to...
flippersmailbag@gmail.com

Where I've Been for the Past Month

I'm glad no one was worried about me during my near month-long absence from the blogging world. Turns out I was pretty busy. Allow me to explain.

It all started on spring break. I was taking it easy, studying it up at Helen C., when all of a sudden a couple hoodlums came up and kidnapped me. Put a black bag over my head and everything. I considered the options (frat prank, Dolphin Liberation Organization, surprise bachelor party), but none of those made sense (frat guys love me, I work for the DLO, and it wasn't 1978). They threw me in a pool in the back of a truck and drove me off somewhere.

We stopped in what I could only assume was Denver, and I got dropped off at what seemed like a zoo. From what I overheard, I was supposed to be the star dolphin of the daily show after their two dolphins died of fin rot. I was yet another victim of dolphin zooification.

I performed the first couple shows under the name Misty, which I understood was the name of one of their recently deceased dolphins. I don't know why they did that, especially considering I'm much more famous than some jerk I've never heard of, but I tolerated it. By the second week I was there, though, they had all their publicity together and let the community know about their new dolphin. Unfortunately, their publicity guy was hard of hearing, so when the dolphinologists told him that the new zoo dolphin was Flipper the Dolphin, he heard it as Hitler the Dolphin. (Believe it or not, this has happened before.) The newspaper articles called me Hitler, the zoo ads called me Hitler, and the banner above my tank read, "HITLER THE DOLPHIN" in giant letters. The zoo patrons all pelted me with cabbage.

So I was kicked out of the zoo about a week after that. They decided not to ship me back to Madtown. There was some legal loophole about no one being allowed to fund any entity named Hitler. So I was stranded in what I could only assume was Denver until a bunch of hippies picked me up. It was a pretty uneventful ride. They liked talking a lot about the environment and stupid music and women's rights, so I eventually just told them to shut up. Anytime any of them tried to say anything, I'd slap 'em in the face and say, "Shut up." Eventually they learned to keep quiet. I could tell they wanted me out of the car, but I bought it from them for a cookie (which was actually already theirs) when they were high.

I got back to Madison just yesterday. I apparently missed three tests, probably failed all my classes, lost my fellowship, and most likely will have no chance to get grad degree. But at least I have some douchebag hippies' car.