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Mimicry

Mimicry

Oi everyone! I’m Chip Montana! And I’m grabbing nature…

By the BALLS!!!

You know it’s often I look around at nature and I’m bewildered. No more so than when an animal is designed so as to appear to be another animal, or another thing, completely.

For instance, the stickbug. That’s a glorious little creature. It looks like a twig. Katydids look like leaves. Moths can appear to be anything from a frog to a hawk to other animals thanks to their mimicry.

The truth is mimicry is an excellent survival tool in the wild! I mean, imagine there’s some great, big bastard, and the bugger wants to eat you! But you look like a butt fucker, and he doesn’t want to get fucked in the butt. Thus, he avoids you, and finds an easier meal. Now, you’ve never fucked a butt in your life. But that fact is irrelevant because, so often, survival comes down to appearances more so than facts.

The ability to be something, but look like an entirely different thing, is one of the foremost tools that prey and predator alike use in their never-ending game of one-upmanship. For many animals, their ability to survive and even thrive relies on convincing their opponents they are something they aren’t.

But never has an animal been so complex enough to appear human, even though they’re anything but. Never has nature managed to create a creature capable of effectively seeming human.

But you, TGK. You seem effectively human.

All too human.

Yet, you’re anything but.

It brings to mind a question that has long been pondered by wildlife biologists such as meself, and philosophers alike.

What is the tangible difference in a creature, and a mimic that is incredibly effective at being a creature?

After all, if an alligator appears to be a log floating in the river, so much so that you ignore it and move on from it, what’s the real difference?

Well, the difference mate, is that no matter how much that alligator wants to look like a log, it can never be a log.

So you can pretend to bleed blood like we do, Generation Kid. You can pretend to feel emotion, to have human relationships, a beating heart behind your chest. Hell, you can even be programmed to mimic it so well that you are convinced you’re just as good as a real, flesh and blood human being.

But you aren’t, mate. You’re nowhere near as good.

You are a robot.

An unnatural thing that will never know what it’s like to be an animal.

Pull the wool over your mates eyes all you want. Oull the wool over your own. Hide from what you really are so well that you forget altogether your true nature.

But buried deep down in your protocol is a directive that no human possesses.

Humans are more than data forced into a crude shell.

We bleed. We love. We do human things.

Things you can only pretend to do.