Here’s the deal. Two months ago I hit upon a unique strategy. I realized that if I wrote about common topics, new readers could never find me as my blog got lost in the hundreds of thousands of search results. However, if I wrote about curiously specific topics – my blog would stand alone. Thus, if you search for “Rebecca Black,” you’d have to scroll through hundreds of pages to find the blog entry where I wrote about her. But if you search for “Rebecca Turquoise,” I’m the very first result. The only thing that remains to be done is to somehow get people to search for Rebecca Turquoise.
In the comments section of that post, loyal reader and “u” missing “Josha” suggested that I do Makya McBee Vs. Baby Hippo Teeth, as there are zero articles on the internet about baby hippo teeth. I’d have a complete monopoly on the subject. The only problem was I had nary a negative word to utter about baby hippo teeth. But now that I am helming the new and improved Makya McBee Approves, it’s time to give these tiny choppers their due.
(By the way, it didn’t occur to me until just now that 100% of my posts in this new format are mouth-related. I can assure you that this is just a peculiar coincidence. I have no plans to only approve topics of a dental nature. That’s the tooth truth.)
So, how about those baby hippo teeth? They’re something else, huh?
To be honest, I don’t really know anything about baby hippo teeth. Mostly because, as noted above, there is nothing on the internet about baby hippo teeth. What is the zoological community hiding?
I’ll tell you what I do know. Hippos are one of only a few mammals that give birth underwater (others include manatees and some of my mom’s particularly hippieish friends). And those baby hippos come out remarkably cute, if apparently unconcerned with their weight issues. And cute baby hippos equals cute baby hippo teeth. So I’m on board.
And if you ever thought that baby hippo teeth weren’t pretty awesome, just check out this article about a 100 year old tortoise that adopted a baby hippo (the tortoise filed the adoption paperwork when it was a spry 82, but the bureaucracy on interspecies adoption is out of control). You think it’s easy for a century-old reptile to keep up with an energetic baby hippo? Well, it’s not. Do you have any idea how long it takes that tortoise to walk the hippo to day care every day? It’s no picnic, my friends. But that’s the dedication that baby hippo teeth (and the baby hippo that surrounds them) deserve.
And if, somehow, that isn’t enough to convince you that baby hippo teeth are the bomb, just consider this. Remember when your elementary school teacher told you that George Washington had wooden teeth? Not true. (It also wasn’t true when she told you that your parents must have forgotten to pack you a juice box…that’s right, kindly Mrs. Adler was stealing your apple juice.) Washington’s teeth were actually carved from hippo teeth. (And thank goodness they carved them down, if they’d given him full-size hippo teeth he would have looked ridiculous.) If they’re good enough for the father of our nation, who are you to scoff at them?
So before you plan your St. Patrick’s Day celebration with a movie marathon of Leprechaun, Leprechaun 2, Leprechaun 3, Leprechaun 4: In Space, Leprechaun: In the Hood, Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood, and the soon to be released Star Trek 12: The Wrath of (Lepre)Khan, perhaps you should, instead, take a moment to reflect upon just how fantastic baby hippo teeth are. Granted, they have nothing to do with St. Patrick’s Day, but those Leprechaun movies are pretty awful.