Look out world! This sauropod got his 20-ton groove back
BONUS COLUMN by A.G. Brontosaurus
Hi there! It looks like I’m back. Someone took a look at my bones and was like “Woah, dudes, when we said you weren’t a legitimate dinosaur we messed up.”
As a brontosaurus, let me say that both of my brains are hugely relieved to be a part of the fossil record and a fully recognized species again. It’s one thing to be dead for 150 million years, but try having your existence denied for a century. Oh, you think you’d like that?
Ever since 1903, I’ve been forced to live like an Apatosaurus. I ate Apatosaurus food (mostly fronds), moved in Apatosaurus herds, walked slowly and majestically like an Apatosaurus. I even opened up an Apatosaurus hot yoga studio downtown. Man, the rent on that space.
I guess the fun had to end sometime. Now I’m a Brontosaurus again, and none of my so-called “friends” will talk to me. Haters gonna hate.
I was a shitty Apatosaurus anyway. It was cool at first, but after a few decades I started feeling like an poser at all the Jurassic parties. I knew it was just a matter of time before some super snotty Iguanodon came up to me and was all like, “You’re not all that.” What does that even mean? I’m all that. I’m all me. And you’re a frickin’ Iguanodon with triangles for thumbs. You can’t talk.
That’s why I’ve decided to stop wallowing (how would I even get back up?) and make the best of my brontosaurushood. I’m hosting a reality show on MTV where I restore mid-century homes for cash-strapped homeowners while coming to terms with my identity. I’m recording a single with Kevin Federline — big ups for K-Fed! The man gets no respect! — and generally living my authentic brontosaurus life.
In the meantime, I’ve got some fronds to eat. Check out my slow, majestic ass as I walk away.
A.G. Brontosaurus is a brontosaurus.