Note: This image is from a totally awesome book by Melanie Rawn, which features reptiles that think like humans (i.e. the only acceptable kind of reptile: the fictional magical kind)
If there’s any tried and true rule about people who own reptiles, its that their dysfunction as a human being is directly proportional to the mass of their collective body of serpents. I’ll give a pass to a guy who owns a gecko, but when you start getting anything that weighs over three pounds and requires its own habitat, then we have a problem. One can only look into the unfeeling, unthinking eyes of a snake or an iguana for so long before humanity itself starts to seem like one of many “options.”
When you’ve decided, as a human being, that you’d rather see a nine foot reticulating python slithering across your living room floor than a human child that shares half your genetic material, then I really think you ought to be institutionalized. And if you think “Hey! The floor’s big enough for both my child and my nine foot long reticulated python!” then I think that’s grounds for sterilization.
Buy a mammal.
And that was my random thought of today.
