Like many older critters, Rhinos do get crumpled with time, sort of like a handsome book that got dropped in a puddle. The outside looks worn, but the pages retain their wisdom.
Like a Diary, our Inside stays forever young and vibrant. Rhinos are just like that Inside; there, Time works on a whole other set-up. Not that We understand the system, but We’d be nuts to deny its existence. Young, old, it’s all the same, Inside.
This idea keeps Us easygoing. On our good days.
We call this blog Your Inner Rhino, but it should be understood that inside each Rhino, there are multiple interior worlds, each with its own slant and goals and style and rhythm.
A Happy Realization, and a good thing to recall when We get disgruntled.
Rhinos are fine. That is how Nature made Us.
Since Baseball is the Great American Pastime, it seems fitting to salute it on July 4. In keeping with this theme, Rhinos draw your attention to Mr. Ernest Thayer’s momentous and definitive 1888 poem, Casey at the Bat. What a wonderful tribute to American character, in its combination of Optimism and Arrogance.
The rules of baseball are too complex for Rhinos to follow consistently, but that does not mean We lose interest from the stands. Enthusiasm is always contagious.
One thing though: baseballs are inedible. We know.
Coming up with a topic for the day’s blog post is not always easy at Your Inner Rhino. It’s frustrating. Much grinding of teeth and low moaning.
The Staff are then forced to extreme measures, scanning the skies for a Message. It was during such a phase when We arrived at the Cookie Solution; if Santa Claus comes for cookies, perhaps the same thing is true for the Blog Muse. Put out some cookies, and hope for the best.
So far, it’s worked pretty well.
Mr. Bjarni Herjolfsson, a Norwegian, set off to visit family in Greenland, but got off course. There were no maps, and his sense of smell was not good. Anyhow, rather than Greenland, he sailed up the coast of North America, as it turned out.
He turned back to find Greenland, never setting foot on his Big Discovery, the first European human sighting of this continent. He later sold his boat to Leif Erikson, who made a settlement in 1000AD.
Rhinos were not there, but We find the idea intriguing. Ahoy.
On the chart, you can see the Rhino Brain. We are told that this proves that Rhinos have inferior mental capacity. Pardon Us if We don’t subscribe to that ‘scientific‘ assessment.
Obvious reservations present themselves: Maybe 1) Rhinos use more of our brain than other critters, 2) We store part of our wits somewhere else, like our kidneys or kneecaps, 3) We don’t fritter away our capacities; We mind our own business. Also Etc., Etc.
But these are not Questions Rhinos bother with. We are fancy free as is. Any Rhino could and would tell you, if asked.
Rhinos enjoy all the seasons We get, wherever We are. No two locales are exactly the same, which may be quirky, but it’s so.
What We particularly like is the toastiness of Summer. We have long believed that hot weather makes Us grow, which is a Prime Rhino Activity. This belief may or may not mean much, but that’s true of most things.
We are Sun Bunnies. For better or for worse.
Rhino Philosophers have always been struck by how insoluble many Questions seem to be. Thrash about as much as We like, We do not arrive at a useful or credible conclusion.
Consequently, Rhinos mostly approach Questions with the assumption that We will get nowhere.
Often We have been proved right, beyond Question.
There is, for Rhinos, no place like Home. Wherever We are, that’s Home. It is an advantage of not having houses, or particular locations to limit Us.
Many of Us have a range where We do whatever We need to. But sometimes things are not working out- We can’t find enough food, water, etc.- and then We have to move along to where things are more congenial. Naturally.
Home is an idea Rhinos carry in our hearts, not a place where We do the dusting.
RTots are a notoriously impatient crowd. Rhino Moms must often field questions about when a forbidden activity will be allowed, like jumping off a cliff or picnicking with lions.
The standard reply, a classic in its own right, is: “When you can lay an egg.”
So far, this snappy response has gone unchallenged. For 50 million years.
Your Inner Rhino 