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The “it” animal of this first decade of the twenty-first century, the penguin has yet to use its fame and fortune for anything but its own self-interest, even accepting an outpouring of support for “endangered” species of penguins. But if they are so endangered, how come there are so many pictures of them on my computer’s hard drive? They even shamelessly accept fish in exchange for letting you spend a few minutes alone with one of them (Antarctica is the champagne room of the southern hemisphere). Thoughtlessly waddling into our hearts with March of the Penguins, these birds didn’t even feel it was necessary to appear in person for their cash-in films, Happy Feet and Surf’s Up, replacing themselves with cartoon imitations. Despite these halfhearted efforts, they have been able to get away with the equivalent of genocide on our psyches, and it’s time they were stopped, International Criminal Court-style.
 
What follows is a detailed deconstruction of the ways in which penguins can ruin your day. DON’T LET THEM WIN. Together, we can stop this threat, and take back our lives from these overdressed con artists.
 
The worst part of all this attention on penguins is how much it has inflated their egos. This cocky bastard thinks he’s Leo fucking DiCaprio on the bow of the Titanic, and while penguins can’t talk (or, more likely, they think humans are beneath their talking abilities), he’s basically saying “I’m king of the world” with his body language.
 
Well, I’ve got news for you, Penguin. Just because you have tiny little flightless penguin wings that you are spreading like you want to give me a big bear hug and I can see your cute little penguin feet peeking out from under your penguin belly and you are an emperor penguin which is like a king does NOT mean that you are the king of the world, jerk. IN FACT, YOU ARE JUST A PENGUIN. It may be your world, now, Penguin, but I’m on to you. Watch your adorable fucking back.
 
Penguins are into the thrills in life, so they play a lot of games, like competing to see how batshit crazy they can look and still come off like a kitten in a fucking basket. This rock-hopping asshole went straight for the Looney Tunes-style crazy eyes, which go disgustingly great with the Mardi Gras feathers that come standard on one of these motherfuckers.
 
But, of course, that all wasn’t good enough, was it, Penguin? So you gave me a smile that says, “First I’m going to pick your child up from day care, and then I’m going to have sex with your wife before we all go out for a nice family dinner at the local Chili’s.” And you still have the GODDAMNED NERVE to be cute. In MY GODDAMNED BOOK. Well, guess what, Penguin? I hate the player, and I hate the game. So get out of my face.
 
Penguins need feathers to stay warm in the water, since they are too vain to get fatter and let their blubber keep them warm. So when Pierre over here (actual goddamned name) couldn’t grow his own feathers, what did we do? WE GAVE HIM A WET SUIT TO KEEP HIM WARM. Now look at him, smirking away as he is lowered back down to show off his gear to his friends, like he did anything to deserve it.
 
Why are we such chumps, people? These penguins don’t care about us, all they do is waddle around and have babies—adorable, smug little babies. And yet we will put wet suits on them, and as if that’s not enough, WE THEN WRITE NEWS ARTICLES ABOUT HOW CUTE THEY LOOK IN THE WET SUITS WE PUT THEM IN. Do you not see the vicious circle here, people? We will be free of the penguins only when we stop allowing them to have this power over us. Let’s let Pierre buy his own wet suit. Then we’ll see how cute it is when a bald penguin has to wait tables for a living.
 
Actually, that would be pretty cute …. Just give him the damn wet suit.
 
Hey, buddy, can you get the fuck out of my way? I’m trying to talk to the penguins here. I know this is normally the part of the nature documentaries where you come in and get to be the bad guy because you run after the penguins and everyone boos. But guess what, asshole? NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, WEDDELL SEAL. You probably think we’re going to be friends because I hate penguins, but all you do is drum up sympathy for the bastards, so you need to go back to squid and fish and let me handle the birds.
 
What are you so desperate for, anyway? You’ve got fat folds, short arms, a pudgy nose, and a perpetual frown. YOU ARE A VORTEX OF CUTE. Pretty sad, Weddell Seal. I think it’s time you stepped aside and let me take over here. Now fall back, Weddell Seal. I’ll call you when I need you.
 
I don’t know if you are making fun of people in double leg casts or if you are just trying to put me into a coma as you waddle into my heart, Penguin. But unless you are not at all trying to get where you are going, that is the dumbest way to walk that I can possibly imagine. FRONT TO BACK, NOT SIDE TO SIDE, MORON. What makes it so depressing is that you know damn well what you are doing. It’s not like walking was just invented, it’s been around for years. Well, I don’t know who you think you are, Penguin, but it’s time you learned how to get around properly. If you start walking the right way now, who knows? Maybe ten, twenty generations down the line, your legs will come back, and then you won’t have to waddle around like some pathetic loser that can’t even get away from a seal.
 
So start working it, Penguin. And if I catch you taking the easy way out by sliding on your belly, you are going to be in serious, serious trouble.
 
Are you kidding me, Penguin? Did you even read the last page, or are you just browsing here? YOU REALIZE THIS MEANS WAR, RIGHT, PENGUIN? Don’t even look at me like that. You are sliding on your fat belly because your feet can’t get around it to walk, meanwhile your wings are hanging in the air like the useless undeveloped appendages that they are (have you ever heard of toning, Penguin?), and you have the balls to be proud of yourself for defying me?
 
I’ve just about had it up to here with you penguins. You know, you waddle and slide, you flap your wings and hop on rocks, you don’t get out of my dreams and into my car …. The whole thing is a fucking disaster. I can’t even take this anymore, let’s find some animals who are actually willing to face what they’ve done.
 

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "F U, Penguin"
by .
Copyright © 2009 Matthew Gasteier.
Excerpted by permission of Random House Publishing Group.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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