Look at this (relatively) little guy. One minute you’re basking in the sun just trying to grow some teeth in and the next minute, a flock of birds decide that they’re just going to get all up in your grill and since you don’t have opposable thumbs or arms attached to your back, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
I’ve never felt a stronger connection with another of God’s creatures than I did looking at the pictures of this baby hippo being brutally pestered by a group of birds who don’t know their place. I am this hippo. This hippo is me.
When trolls and regular folk alike respond to rhetorical questions and clog up my Twitter mentions with their bullshit.
I am this hippo.
When salespeople hover over me after I’ve already goddamn told them I don’t need any help.
I am this hippo.
When I went to the petting zoo that one time and a goat clamped its jaw around the sleeve of my jacket until I cried.
I am this hippo.
When dudes start dancing with me from behind like that’s an appropriate way to approach a woman.
I am this hippo.
When idiots offer their opinions.
I am this hippo.
“Reverse racism is real.”
I am this hippo.
When, people, generally, don’t just back the fuck off.
I am this hippo.
We are all this hippo. Rage, rage baby hippo.