Why I Don’t Like Unicorns

Someone is about to need an eye patch. (public domain, via wikimedia)

Recently, someone asked where I stood “on the unicorn question.”

I don’t like unicorns.

Now, you’d be correct if you pointed out that I’ve never met a unicorn. There may be a unicorn out there who could change my mind. The first unicorn I meet might make me think otherwise about the rest of them. He might, but I doubt it.

A Brief Shot At Mimes

It’s not my way to condemn an entire group, as I’m doing with unicorns.

There are exceptions. I think we can all agree that all flu viruses and all mimes are worthy of our condemnation. That is because we know that it is inconceivable to think that we might meet an individual mime or a single virus who would make us feel bad about disliking their entire species.

Until I meet that one unicorn who changes my mind, I am sticking with my position. I don’t like unicorns.

The inevitable question is “why?” What reason would I have for disliking unicorns? My answer is that it is hard to narrow it down to one reason, so I won’t.

Lousy Slackers

When you get right down to it, unicorns are horses. They’re capable of doing all the helpful things that horses do; they choose not to participate.

Thank you for your service (image via wikimedia Stewart Butterfield)

It isn’t hard to find a horse getting involved in helpful work.  But when you see unicorns in a pictures, they are usually standing around looking at a waterfall or the moon. No one benefits from all that sedentary staring. Unicorns don’t contemplate a waterfall, then issue some new philosophical break through. As best I can tell, when a unicorn finishes staring at something, it goes and stares at something else.

The other thing unicorns seem to do in pictures is jump and release rainbows from their backsides. Once again, this is something we really don’t need done. We’ve got rain and sunlight involved in the rainbow business, in partnership with some basic physics. They take care of all our planet’s rainbow needs. Rainbows that come out of unicorns are redundant and just a bit nasty.

Most of all, unicorns run with pointed sticks. The entire non-unicorn population of the earth learned from their mothers not to run with a stick. Unicorns do it all the time. And each of them choose to run knowing that, while he could harm others, he will never be injured with his own pointed stick.

Are A Few Extra Rainbows Worth Damaged Corneas?

So unicorns are lazy, defiant, rule-breakers. Rule-breakers who produce fewer rainbows than they do ophthalmic injuries. Their own sloth is the only thing stopping them from racing, helping out around the farm or some of the other things other horses do to make themselves part of society.

Don’t get me started on those Pegasus freaks.

Welcome Visitors from Freshly Pressed. Thanks for stopping in. I’ll answer your comments as quickly as I can. Since I know you’ll be standing by breathlessly for my pithy responses, may I suggest that while you wait you roam the grounds here at Blurt? I’ll make it easy for you. Click here and I’ll pick something at random for you to read.

You could also wander over to the two group blogs that I’m part of – Long Awkward Pause and The Nudge Wink Report. In both those places you’ll find actual writers who crank out funny stuff at an alarming rate.

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