Stop Anthropomorphizing Me

I know this is going to come across a bit harsh, but I want to get straight to the point. Speaking on behalf of myself and all other completely nonhuman members of my species, I must insist that the practice of anthropomorphizing us stops right now.

I am not a human. I am a dog. I can't talk. I can't say a full sentence. Not even close. I can't experience complex emotions, I can't laugh, I can't rob a bank, and I have no idea that my name is Gerald. I can't even write, people, so please stop this anthropomorphizing business this instant.

It's not funny.

The amusement you get out of this unoriginal, overused—what shall I call it?—this fetish simply boggles the mind. What is your fascination with having animals speak? I'm a dog, for crying out loud. My brain weighs three-and-a-half ounces. Three-and-a-half ounces. I can barely understand what's going on around me, and what little knowledge I do possess is based primarily on smell. So tell me, why do you keep putting me at poker tables and making me dance and sing the blues? I do not wear hats and I certainly did not receive my doctorate in media criticism from Harvard University. I can assure you, if I were ever given a diploma, I would eat it. So, I beg you, for the last time, stop this right now.

Read the full article at The Onion.