Monk Seals

A monk seal, doing what monk seals do, which is nothing

So, this thing here is called a monk seal. Apparently they wash up on the beach in our area from time to time, and it’s really special because they’re all “endangered.” These things are like the stupid turtles we’ve got floating around here all the time (one day I’ll explain why I hate turtles, it’s a long story that involves Nicaragua), they don’t do anything, you’re not allowed to poke them or yell at them or ride them or look at them, so as I see it there’s not much point to them at all.
So the other day Michelle comes home and tells me that she got involved with this monk seal group and she’s in charge of mile or so stretch of beach past Haleiwa. I got excited because I thought I’d have a chance to finally play with a seal, and maybe I could teach it to catch fish for me or something cool like that. Apparently not though. The lazy beasts come up on land to sleep, and then go back to sea for years at a time, or something like that. So, long story short, no seals for Rory. So, I asked her what the point of the group was. She told me that their job is to make sure no one harasses the seal. They don’t have any legal power, this is just a bunch of kooks that printed out t shirts that say “Monk seal patrol,” and they hang around on the beach yelling at people who get to close to the animals.

Great, I’m in love with a fucking seal narc.

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