My first experience with dolphins was as a teenager. My girlfriend at the time was enamored by them, and she wallpapered her room with dolphin posters. She had a preference for velvet painting knock-offs, usually featuring a dolphin in mid-flight, leaping over a rainbow and flashing a toothy grin. Though she insisted they were cute, I always found them vaguely menacing. I could never put my finger on it, but there was something about her beloved dolphins that scared the bejesus out of me.
“Their fucking eyes are following me,” I’d mutter to her. “How do you sleep at night with all those dolphins staring at you?”
If she wasn’t so skilled at dry-humping, I never would have set foot in her bedroom. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see the dolphins leering down at me from her walls, watching my every move. It’s a wonder I was able to get an erection at all. But when you’re 14 and perpetually horny, even a chorus line of cheerful dolphins can’t dissuade you from trying to penetrate a pair of acid-washed jeans.
My seething hatred of dolphins wasn’t restricted to teenage girl home decor. I was dragged to Sea World for family vacations, where I watched dolphins perform their seemingly charming antics. But I could see through their facade. They didn’t fool me. Every time some naive tourist flocked towards the dolphin tank, hoping to be dragged through filthy water or reward their aquatic hosts with fish entrails, it sent a shudder down my spine.
“Oh my gawd,” they’d squeal in delight. “They’re almost human.”
“Yeah, well so is Ted Bundy,” I’d spit back. “But you don’t see me playing games of grab-ass with him in a pool.”
It only got worse when I moved to Florida, just a scant few miles from the ocean. Every weekend another friend comes up with the bright idea of taking a midnight run to the beach for some moonlit swimming. When I refuse, on the grounds that I don’t want some dolphin’s beak prodding my soft, fleshy belly, they respond with befuddled amusement.
“Are you kidding?” They’ll ask me. “Dolphins are so gentle and sweet.”
“Maybe that’s just what they want you to think,” I’ll say.
“You’re being silly. You’re not scared of sharks but you’re terrified of dolphins?”
At least sharks aren’t hypocrites, I tell them. Sharks don’t pretend to be anything but bloodthirsty assholes. Dolphins put on a show of being charming and delightful, so you just know they have something to hide.
To be fair, I wasn’t basing my dolphin bigotry on anything concrete. I just didn’t like them. They always struck me as being like that guy at every party who goes out of his way to be your friend. He’ll refill your drink and compliment your appearance and amuse you with clever witticisms. But you can almost smell the insincerity on him. He wants something from you, even if you’re never entirely sure what it is. His charismatic personality is just a front, a flashy distraction while he plots to make a lunge for your throat.
For nearly two decades, I’ve been ostracized for my dolphin hatred, never able to jutify my inherent paranoia. But recently, I was thumbing through an old issue of The Economist (don’t ask) when I happened upon this startling quote:
“Rape, even gang rape, is not unknown among other wild animals. But dolphins have perfected the practice.”
I was shocked, but mostly delighted by the news. Could it be true that, just as I’d long suspected, dolphins aren’t really the lovable, gregarious pranksters-of-the-sea that everybody seems to think they are? Could they actually be gang-rapists?
I read everything I could find about dolphin sexuality, and after weeks of exhaustive research, learned the terrifying truth. Dolphins do indeed enjoy gang rape. In fact, they’re the only mammals – besides frat boys and NBA players – who regularly engage in rape. That they prefer their rape Accused-style only makes their behavior all the more sinister.
Don’t believe me? Consider this irrefutable evidence.
Irishdolphins.com, a pro-dolphin website devoted to “giving accurate information about ‘friendly’ or sociable wild dolphins around the coastal waters of Ireland,” reluctantly filed this field report:
“Richard Connor and Rachel Smolker observed that male bottlenoses, in that population at least, form durable ‘alliances’, typically of 3 animals (one dolphin on its own cannot effectively coerce another dolphin), apparently for the specific purpose of forcing copulation on unwilling females, either by all the males or by the two most dominant ones amongst them. Certainly this behaviour could be described as ‘gang rape’ if it took place within human society, though we should as usual be wary of anthropomorphising.”
Well, I’m not wary of anthropomorphising, so I’ll just come right out and say it. Dolphins are fucking rapists. When three or more animals force another animal to have sex against her will, that’s gang rape. No means no, even if it’s said with high-pitched squeaking.
National Geographic‘s graphic expose of the delphine menace, “The Dark Side of Dolphins”, revealed this frightening factoid:
“Dr. Richard Connor, studying dolphins in Shark Bay in Western Australia, has documented cases of males kidnapping and holding females captive, sometimes for months at a time.”
Apparently it’s not enough just to get their cheap thrills at the expense of some poor lady dolphin’s chastity. Now they’re actually abducting their victims and keeping them prisoner, probably as their personal sex slaves.
No longer satisfied with just raping their own kind, many dolphins are now prowling for interspecies sex partners.
In 1999, a Norwegian man accused a dolphin of attempted rape after he was reportedly molested while swimming. According to the newspaper Verdens Gang, “The dolphin’s penis got caught between the man’s swimming costume and his legs.” A diving instructor who witnessed the attack claimed that the dolphin also made advances on him, but he was “wearing protection – a wetsuit.”
In June of 2002, tourists visiting Dorset, England, were warned to avoid contact with a “horny” dolphin named George, who has been harassing swimmers for months. Ric O’Barry, a marine mammal expert, admitted that, “This dolphin does get very sexually aggressive. He has already attempted to mate with some divers.”
And more recently, a New Zealand woman was severely injured in December when a dolphin leapt into her boat and crushed her with the full weight of his filthy, heaving body. A Coast Guard expert explained the behavior by saying that the dolphin had just become “over-excited.” Yeah, we’ve all heard that excuse before, usually from lacrosse players at Ivy-League schools.
In Robin Brown’s jaw-dropping tome, “The Lure of the Dolphin” (Avon, 1979), he writes that dolphins “engage in love-play with almost every creature in sight – with mothers, brothers, fathers, daughters, cousins or aunts. There is even one record of a Bottlenose Dolphin masturbating with a herring.”
If that doesn’t chill you to the bone, you have no sense of morality. I guarantee you that if a human male was caught masturbating with a herring, he’d be put on a predator watch list so fast it’d make his head spin. But a dolphin does it and nobody bats an eye. As long as they’re still playing catch with beach balls and doing synchronized back flips, everybody just averts their gaze when the dolphins start fucking their sisters or gang-raping anything that moves.
I’ve had just about enough of their rapin’ shenanigans. The rest of you may be content with a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding dolphin sex, but I won’t stand for it anymore. I refuse to sit back and let the dolphin enablers preach to me about their gentle nature, or complain about how the poor, innocent dolphins are being trapped and killed in tuna nets. I don’t even like tuna, but if the tuna industry is in any way responsible for wiping out those opprobrious dolphin rapists, I may have to reconsider my dietary choices.
And I encourage you to do the same. Do your part to end cetacean sexual assault. Steer clear of tuna with “Dolphin Friendly” labels. Even better, this website provides a comprehensive list of supermarkets that stock tuna known to endanger dolphins. Even if you don’t eat the stuff, simply buying their tuna will help subsidize an industry that’s committed to sticking it to the eco-warriors and their pro-rape agenda. With your financial support, we can end dolphin gang-rape in our lifetime.
The next person they rape may be you.