Due to the popularity of the Sam The Emu interview, I now offer you the transcript of the interview I did with Donald the Sand Goby. These interviews were conducted as part of a series titled, ‘Home Dads in the Wild’ and I feel great that they’re up and running again.
Next week I will be chasing down a male seahorse to continue the series, thanks to a tip off by Kay - a visitor to the website. Thanks Kay! I have already made contact with a seahorse named Lance. This could potentially be a very interesting interview because after organising to meet at his fish tank abode on Wednesday, Lance informed me that he’s pregnant!!! Stay tuned.
My conversation with Donald the Sand Goby is below. As with the Sam the Emu interview, it didn’t end well. I’m starting to think that I may be specie-ist…
Reservoir Dad: I did a bit of research on you guys. I was impressed, first of all, that you spent so much time building a nest, looking after the eggs and basically giving the women of your species a break. I mean that’s basically an example of what we humans call ‘Mentally Sexy’.
Donald: Thanks, man. Appreciate it. The males in our species have a long history of being there for our offspring. We really enjoy being involved. We care.
RD: So, how do I get to this next question… shit, I’ll just go ahead and say it and you can respond as you please.
RD: So. You eat your babies…
Donald: We what? Eat our… No we don’t.
RD: You do so. Scientists have documentation that proves that you chew on your own children.
Donald: What’s a scientist?
RD: Umm, a person who studies things and records things and basically hangs around watching things happen.
Donald: Those guys in the white coats, holding the little glasses of colourful stuff?
Donald: Those bastards! They’re around so long you forget they’re there. Okay, I nibble at my babies a little. A bite here and there. What’s your point?
RD: Actually, it says here that you eat up to 40% of your brood and sometimes you even eat them all.
Donald: 40% sounds a bit of an over-estimation. Okay. Fine. I eat my babies. Big deal. Move on. Next question.
RD: Why would you eat your own children, man? I wouldn’t call that great parenting.
Donald: Oh, well hoity-toity to you? Look out everyone! We’ve got an expert by the tank! What do you want, RD, a fricken medal? What do you eat then, Mr Perfect?
RD: Whatever’s in the cupboard, or the fridge.
Donald (splashing water at me): Well where’s my cupboard smartass? Where’s my fridge? You see where I’m going with this? I read your interview with the Penguin and the Emu. These poor bastards starve half to death looking after their brood. You know why? Because they only lay a few eggs. Can you imagine the Penguin getting a little peckish and nibbling on his only baby? Doesn’t really lead to the continuation of a species does it? You humans only have a few children but you’ve got cupboards and fridges full of food. I don't have cupboards or fridges but I've got heaps of children. We all have ways of getting by, mate.
RD: Our elderly next door neighbours had fourteen children.
Donald: Yeah? Well I’d be eating some of those…
RD: No… you see, I don’t want to come down on your culture but this is where we differ – even if we had twenty kids we still wouldn’t eat any of them.
Donald: Not even if you’re really, really hungry?
RD: Not even then, Donald.
Donald: But there’s so bloody many of them. They don’t shut up. They leave a huge mess and I’m stuck with them all the fricken time. Come on man. Give us a break.
RD: So you eat your babies to reduce noise and mess?
Donald: And stress. It can be hard work with a brood that large.
RD: True. I have a hard time with a brood the size of three. Sometimes I feel so frustrated, you know, when they just won’t listen and… I’ve never considered eating them though.
Donald: You’d have to be careful if you did, I’d imagine.
RD: Why’s that?
Donald: Well, once I start chewing down on the little whipper-snappers I get insatiable. Can’t stop at just one or two. I’m watching the TV throwing them back absent-mindedly and before you know it, the whole lot's gone. Might happen to you as well. A little nibble on Archie and then you start gnawing on Lewis and all of a sudden you're licking Tyson off your lips and your hand’s dipping into an empty bowl.
RD: Did that with a block of chocolate once. Anyway, I don’t think you’re being very honest with me, Donald. While doing my research I came across a theory that the only reason you care for your brood is because it impresses the ladies.
Donald: Shit… might as well put it all on the table now. Truth is I don’t like looking after the kids at all. But the chicks dig it big time. Looking after kids is like my peacock's feather - a very big sexual ornament and a chick magnet. I mean, I'm a DILF mate. That’s how you score! That’s how you spread your seed! Chicks like sensitive guys. And there’s nothing that screams sensitive more than being gay…
Donald: ... and second to that is a bloke looking after kids. You hang out with the kids, clean the house a little and then you’re mating with every Sand Goby in the sea. You’re producing so many eggs that you’d be stupid NOT to eat a few… when the women aren’t looking of course.
RD: You’re starting to scare me, Donald. I feel like Jodie Foster interviewing Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Baby Sand Goby’s. I don’t know… it just seems a bit dishonest. Maureen would hate it.
Donald: Get with it man! How many women have you mated with since you’ve had kids?
RD: It’s a bit different for humans. We generally end up paring with one person.
Donald: For how long?
Donald: For Ever!? And you’re getting stuck into me for eating babies?
RD: We actually like it mate. It has benefits.
Donald: Now, you’re starting to scare me, RD.
RD: So, to sum it up - Despite your attempt to convince me that you love your children, you actually only look after your brood and tend to the nest only to score with as many female Sand Gobys as possible?
Donald: That just about covers it.
RD: Thanks for you time.
Donald (licking his lips): No worries RD. By the way, where are your kids today?
RD: Just be careful, Donald.
Donald: Pffft. Don't let the door hit you in the ass.