If you see this person, ask her if she dropped her sense of humor out of the canoe.

I have been informed that the appeal of the photoblog Fuck You, Penguin is not universal. This comes as a great surprise to me, as I had been given to believe that blogs where people use foul language to tell cute animals what's what were an instant recipe for success. But no: My older sister has informed me that she doesn't understand the point of this particular blog.

I would never want to ruin FUP for the rest of us (and by "the rest of us," I mean people who are sensible enough to NOT allow themselves to get trapped in low-hanging trees while canoeing—you know who you are), but one of my goals here at sleeping alone is to guide you through the morass of resources available online and to lead you to those that are worthy of your intelligence, time, and energies. This being the case, I feel it is my duty to promote widespread dissemination of the FUP materials and to analyze, with great respect and honor, Fuck You, Penguin.

Element One: Insane photos aligned just beneath enlightening and accurate titles.
Take, for example, this entry from February 5, 2009:


Here's another one, from January 20, 2009:


It's literally impossible to read the titles and view the photos without understanding that OBviously these animals are DOING IT ON PURPOSE. They know what they're doing, with their anime eyes and paws that do human things. They clearly want to take us down, one email attachment at a time.

Element Two: Wisdom.
The author of FUP goes only by the three-letter acronym of BZA, which is probably an effort to protect himself from a more direct onslaught of cute animals than he has already been subjected to, as in this entry from November of last year:

Those better be giant fingers, Monkeys. Or you're in real trouble. I'll let you go this time. But if I don't see some article somewhere about a giant 50-foot-tall man going around holding monkeys in his fingers, I'm coming for you, and guess what? HUGGING MY THUMB WILL ONLY GET YOU SO FAR.

The author also kindly explains why the Tibetan fox thinks he's better than you:

I'm not one for slapping foxes, as I generally think they know what they've done, but this one really has that look, like the asshole boyfriend of the girl the main guy wants in an 80s movie. Unsurprisingly, he is extremely rare. That's probably because he thinks if he has too many babies, some of them will turn out to be commoners and he wouldn't be able to show his square face at the country club anymore.

Element Three: Rage.
Ostriches, it turns out, amuse only themselves. BZA, noticing this, despairs to think that despite his scolding, "the ostrich will never know that its days have come and gone. Similar to the grandfather that makes terrible jokes that no one finds funny, but people laugh at them to not make him feel bad, ostriches walk around like they are the funniest damn thing since camels, and everybody goes along with it because they could literally slice open your entire fucking body."




Element Four: Despair.
BZA, explaining that seals are always looking for a handout,also helpfully explains why it's not going to work:

This seal can obviously see I am eating a Fruit Leather at the moment (apple) and expects me to give him some. Honestly, I think this seal must be stupid, because there is no fucking way I am going to give my fruit leather, which I work hard every day to pay for, to a GODDAMNED, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SEAL just because he looks at me with giant droopy eyes when I know damn well all he does all day is lounge around on rocks getting fat. Besides, a. I already finished the fruit leather, and b. he didn't give me any kind of home address where I could send it even if I still had some.

Element Five: Defeat.
This blogger happens to be a guy who knows when he's been beaten. In the January 27, 2009, entry, "get your own damn legs, pig," he curses the pig who appears to not see the sheer indecency of getting carried around a county fair by humans:

I see you're very proud of yourself aren't you, Pig? You get to walk around the fair without exerting any effort. For what? So you can roll around in the mud the rest of the day and not get tired? What are you doing that's so fucking exhausting that you get to be carried around and have your picture taken like you're the fucking king of the fair? EVERYBODY BOW DOWN TO THE LITTLE PIG, KING OF THE COTTON CANDY STAND. I think it's time you learned to fend for yourself, you little piece of-

What? I can hold him?... Okay, just for one second... NO! Stay strong, don't let him get to you.

For more on the important work of Fuck You, Penguin, you can visit the main page at http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/ or just go directly to my favorite entry, "Moose are the biggest dorks ever".