Sometimes I get bored and go to read the translated neatherlands duckipedia, then I remember they were so mean to specificly Mortimer for some reason, like this isn't something the do for all the antagonists.
Like look at Sylvester's page then look at Mortimer's page.
Like they aren't wrong but are the names needed lol.
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I think one of the things that a lot of humans fail into internalize about the Predator/Prey dynamic, especially in nature, is that millions of years of being shaped into Prey can often make incredibly territorial and fierce animals that will do anything they can to fight against millions of years of fighting being killed.
That's why horses kick and buck. Why rabbits are so infamously cantankerous and moody. Why deer have giant multi-pronged bone growths coming out of their foreheads that they can use for self-defense. Why rhinos are so dangerously territorial.
Meanwhile- a lot of Predators out in nature when they are not actually hunting (or play hunting) are remarkably chill. Especially macropredators. Think about how cats are known for the fact that they just lay around in the sun all day. Dogs are goofy guys who just want a friend.
The Predator/Prey dynamic isn't about the strong ferocious Predator taking advantage of weak and innocent Prey. When you're Prey, you're something that has spent millions of years being shaped into learning how to fight back. You're something that nature itself has pulled apart and put back together with all the sharp bits pointing out, just so you can survive.
You two have to be equal, otherwise there'd be nothing left to hunt.
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Semi-related to my post on how human conservation practices, but I have a cold today, and it's got me thinking about biological altruism—the biological imperative to put other creatures ahead of yourself, to benefit the group.
When talking about possible interactions with other species, we talk a lot about humans being crazy and thrill-seeking and impossible to kill. Never use a warning shot as an incentive to keep humans out of a fight; it'll just make them angry. And that's true. But a valid criticism I've seen in the "Earth is a death world" community is that according to our understanding of evolution, every planet must be some form of death world. Competition fosters evolution—the wolf with sharper claws survives when its litter mates die. You can't reach space travel without some casualties along the way.
But the dog survives because it makes friends with the strange ape carrying a sharp stick. And the strange ape survives because it befriends the wolf. Underneath the death world is an inextricable and undeniable layer of the bond world; the love world; the world, together.
I imagine some worlds are not death worlds. They're peaceful and tranquil. I suspect there are worlds far more deadly than Earth, where the skies rain diamonds, harder than any substance we know with the species to match. And I imagine that they are united in their confusion at the duality of humankind.
Today is a great example: I have a cold, and I want someone to take care of me, but the people who would are immunocompromised, also sick, or live 8 hours away, respectfully. I also want no one within the walls of my apartment or I will eat them. I feel gross, I feel tired, and I don't want a single human being anywhere near me, even if they did bring soup.
In my constant scrolling through my phone today, I decided to look up why the hell I feel so bad—why everyone feels so bad when they're ill. And the answer surprised me. I always thought it was because your immune system is active, so it's using a lot of your energy. That is part of it. Another part is that your brain and body are communicating across the blood-brain barrier to fight the infection, which is rare and energetically expensive.
But that doesn't explain everything, and according to more current research, it could also be what's called the Eyam Hypothesis: that we feel so gross, so we instinctively isolate from other people. We're too tired to deal with others, and so we don't infect them. Misanthropy for the good of the species. Of course, it can also backfire: one of the criticisms of the Eyam Hypothesis is that humans also instinctively care for each other. If my brother has a headache, I drive to the store for Advil.
Personally, I think it's a little bit of both: biological altruism. Either way, the majority live on. The first thought I had this morning when I woke up wasn't "I feel gross" it was "there's no way I'm going to work today." And while that might not be everyone's first thought, you don't even have to be a particularly altruistic person to not want to leave your home or your bed when you're sick. It's inborn.
And so when the human named Ismail comes down with a case of the interstellar common cold, his alien friend Dyos grows very concerned. Ismail is usually intensely social, almost off-puttingly so. Some crew members joke about how his quarters are for sleeping and prayer only; if he's home alone? You should be worried. But when Dyos demands an answer to the severity of Ismail's malady, the other humans just nod knowingly.
"Nah, he's okay, the medics already cleared him. It's not a severe infection."
"But there are so many...fluids. And his body has changed color."
There is a moment of confusion there until they remember that Dyos's species can see in the infrared color spectrum.
"Nah, that's just a low-grade fever. It should break in the next couple days."
"But he doesn’t want to play chess today," Dyos insists.
"Ohhhh," says human Claudia, finally understanding. "No, that's normal. Humans don't like being around other people when they're sick, it's supposed to be one of the major evolutionary advantages. Protect your community from your illness and the genes live on."
"So we're just going to leave him alone?" Dyos is troubled by this. He can go for weeks without speaking to another life form, but he has seen Ismail grow despondent when unable to participate in social gathering.
"Oh, no," human Claudia says, laughing. "We're going to employ one of the other most longstanding human evolutionary advantages."
There are many to choose from and Dyos settles on, "middle age?"
"Sort of," human Claudia opens up a small shipping container and holds up a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon. It glows brightly in Dyos's vision, almost as brightly as human Claudia's smile. "His nanni's hot soup, express delivery."
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