Cheese Burger writes:
“Do you support black lives matter? Cause I do!!”
At first when I received this message I was quite pleased. To discover that the things which I had been eating were capable of intelligent thought! Then, unfortunately, I realized this was probably not from an actual cheeseburger but rather a mere human adopting the guise of one of its betters. As such, I should prepare myself for extreme disappointment. A goal humans appear to be willing to go to great length to achieve, it would seem.
Having determined that this is not, in fact, a cheeseburger I next had to ascertain exactly what “black lives matter” even referred to. To be perfectly honest, I found the last two words most troubling. Lives matter? When did that become a rule? Or, perhaps, this is just a mere observation of physics? Organic molecules are matter! Yes, that would make sense. So, given this is a human, that can’t possibly be what that means. Which is why, reluctantly, I had to ask Randolph to translate.
That man really needs to learn to enunciate. Those blood choked gurgles he makes are barely comprehensible at times.
So, from what I have gathered from Randolph . . . your species . . . has color? Really? Most of the time by the time I meet most humans you all sort of look like, well, a red shapeless pulp.
All right. So, you’re all saying that you not normally just blobs of red squishy and that, prior to this stage, you apparently have some sort of color on your outside. Do I have this correct? Even though all of you, apparently, can be turned into similar looking red squishy blobs and the red squishy parts obviously make up way more of you than the outer bits. Yet, for some reason, you really want to insist these outer bits are what are important to focus on?
You know, until I met humans, I don’t think I have ever met another species that required a slogan to remind itself that all its members are the same species. This is not exactly an argument for sentience on your part. Or that “lives matter” part of your slogan.
Well, at least this sheds some light on one mystery. About a century and a half ago one of my old school chums dropped in for a visit. He landed in some small town in an area I think is called Massachusetts. You humans started acting up, saying the well water was tainted, that the crops had gone bad, and then started locking people up in the farmhouse and killing each other. At the time I thought it was all because my buddy’s sense of personal hygiene is, well, it’s a bit underdeveloped if you get my meaning. But, after what Randolph tells me about how you react to what are apparently very minor differences of shading I’m pretty sure now this was just some sort of elaborate effort at gentrification.
All right, so as I said, you humans have somehow managed to outdo yourselves once again and completely surpass what I believed were the limits of my ability to be disappointed. How many times do I have to spell this out to you? None of your pitiful and fleeting existences matter one whit to me. What does matter, however, is that when the stars are right and I arise from the sea in the sunken city of R’lyeh that I find something worth destroying!
Let me be clear! I want you all to stop this nonsense right now! Stop trying to burn everything down before I get a chance to go Godzilla on your dumb asses! There had better be something for me to rampage through or so help me I will be ever so cross with the whole lot of you!
Right. New slogan as apparently your species is far too simple to understand the old one. Forget “Black Lives Matter.” Try “We Are All Red Pulpy Masses Of Sludge Who Will Be Trod On By The Great And All Powerful Cthulhu When He Arises From His Sunken City”
Randolph! I am placing you in charge of creating the WAARPMOSWWBTOBTGAAPCWHADHSC shirts and of distributing them to the masses!