Top 10 Animals That Don’t Have ᴀsses

One of the largest, softest, most complex areas of the human body is the ᴀss. That ᴀsses are both s.ᴇ xual and fᴇᴄᴀʟ seems vaguely confusing. One considers the dual nature of ᴀsses and thinks “Freud, did Freud write about this, seems like he didn’t, seems like maybe he didn’t.” ᴀsses are actually pretty rare. They seem to manifest mostly on mammals with 4 limbs of a certain length. Studies have shown that the ᴀss evolved from the tail.


It has been said that when God created the Ugly Fish he momentarily forgot he was creating things to exist in concrete reality, rather than in abstraction, or in “art,” and therefore would be subject to cause-and-effect/time/[other physical laws] that allow crippling loneliness and sᴇᴠᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ to manifest in specific consciousnesses. To solve this, it has been said, God idly inserted pᴀssages into The Bible differentiating between humans and animals. Then God realized that Ugly Fish would be having relationships with other Ugly Fish—not Salmon, or Wrᴀsse, or something—and so wouldn’t feel uglier in terms of [God stopped thinking about it at this point].


Representing the completely ᴀssless mollusk kingdom, many have argued—out of boredom—that the Mussel is “all ᴀss.” Due to complicatedly bureaucratic reasons no one, to this day, has been able to even vaguely articulate, many scientists, from 1931 to 2007, were lawfully forced to process, convey, and earnestly believe the Mussel’s sʜᴇʟʟ to be its ᴀss, but then the same faction who successfully made everyone stop calling Pluto a planet was able to do the same with mussel-sʜᴇʟʟs/ᴀsses, despite meager funding and an initial string of failed campaigns.


It’s honestly unknown how the Alligator—a sluggishly powerful, obese, boring animal whose sole predatory strategy is to repeatedly “roll” in place after ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ into something, it seems—came to be ranked #3 on this list, mostly because inquiries have not been made. Our shared email account contains an email with the subject line “Alligator?” from, likely to express worry that the Alligator’s inexplicable placement might have caused the Amoeba to not rank this year (the Amoeba was #9 last year, garnering 3 energy drink sponsorships in Japan), but it remains unread and I think someone deleted it a few days ago, because I don’t remember seeing it recently.


The Hamster and the Ocean Sunfish—two otherwise almost perfectly disparate animals—don’t have ᴀsses in the same manner: their heads are also their bodies. Efforts at combining these powerfully ᴀssless animals into one land-sea “powerhouse” have not advanced beyond the stage represented by this sentence. In late-2009 a group of people on Tumblr, in conjunction with a group of people who post regularly on an “abandoned” Bright Eyes messageboard, noticing that ᴀssless animals often have neutral facial expressions and humans often have non-neutral facial expressions, especially those with large or otherwise notable ᴀsses, collaboratedly speculated on a connection between facial expressions and ᴀsses to profitably viral results (I’m referring to the arguably 4D Venn diagram that was reblogged 498 times and “liked” 2453 times in a 72-hour period and then sold in simplified form on shirts and tote bags and posters and stickers).


Idly representing the reptile kingdom’s “boringer” animals that don’t have ᴀsses, the Snake’s fan-base is surprisingly varied: certain Christians enjoy holding them at noncommittal distances while dancing and emitting noises, children in non-gated communities with 20-40% of the lots perpetually “under construction” enjoy ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋing them in their own environments with shovels, adults sometimes vaguely enjoy storing them in 50-gallon fish-tanks. It has been said that when God created Snakes he began with the Cobra and ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛally placed theᴀss on the face, then sort of “gave up,” interpreting the majorly egregious error as an metaphor for [God stopped thinking about it at this point].


Modern Taiwanese lore states that the Giant Squid was created when a Sᴘᴇʀᴍ Whale, neurotically obsessed with wanting an ᴀss, attempted to cut its tail into something—anything—resembling an ᴀss, creating 10 tentacles. Sᴇᴠᴇʀᴇly ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssed, the Sᴘᴇʀᴍ Whale, whose childhood had been largely carefree and even happy, though perhaps lonelier than most, floated in place with a catatonic facial expression and was dyed red by its own ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ. A 14-year inquiry (which began as a graduate thesis on rap music) into the origins of this lore concluded that “in terms of balancing affect and analytical thought for maximum effect, 7.41 seconds is the ideal length, generalizing the entire human population as an audience, to show a Giant Squid and a Sᴘᴇʀᴍ Whale in ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ, in a museum, to end The Squid and the Whale, which showed the image for 5.76 seconds,” a nonsequitur that the author defended in a rant-like manner (“…not a nonsequitur, it’s an unconventional and weird but true etiology, does something need to originate in a book or person, I don’t think so, David Lynch doesn’t make sense and people love that…”) in the comments section of the online magazine that published the 10,540-word article.


Its combination of “ᴋɪʟʟing rampage” demeanor/persona, mᴀssive head, seemingly always-open mouth, and tiny arms has made the Tyrannosaurus Rex one of the most profitable pop-culture fixtures in the 20th century. Despite not accomplishing anything except standing, walking, running, eating, drinking, sleeping, and ᴍᴀᴛɪɴɢ the Tyrannosaurus Rex, who additionally has been ᴇxᴛɪɴᴄᴛ ~65.5 million years, has a longer Wikipedia page than Ernest Hemingway, a testament to the unique power of its brand. I just thought “I hate my life” in a tonally incomprehensible manner. Many expect the Tyrannosaurus Rex to be the centerpiece or perpetrator of something utterly, insanely, iconically unprecedented in something like (the year) 3,506,039,302.


Economically important when heated and placed near ʙᴜᴛᴛer, the Lobster seems like the kind of ᴀssless animal that would gain inexplicable popularity in the 1890s and again in the 1960s, then disappear entirely, into Mexico City. It’s been rumored that a mysterious and annoying group of precocious children somewhere have speculated that the lobster’sᴀss can probably be located somewhere beneath its sʜᴇʟʟ, between the tail and the head, or something, but people so far have reflexively eaten that part without thinking anything—about anything, apparently—defaultedly opting to not look at it a little in a mildly scientific manner, allowing the lobster to secure placement on this list every year since 1985, a trend that is expected to continue forever.


Perhaps the most intelligent animal that doesn’t have an ᴀss, the Dolphin seems like it would probably have a s.ᴇ xy ᴀss, due to its muscularly smooth [everything, it seems]. In 1994 Esquire was actually going to publish an unsolicited essay from [mid-list author with 3 novels from Knopf] about the 15 loveliest ᴀsses he’d seen on TV the past 6 months that earnestly included specific Dolphins from The Discovery Channel as #14 and #6, but a fact-checker rightly said that Dolphins don’t have ᴀsses and the managing editor sort of ʟᴏsᴛ interest after that, not responding to [aforementioned author]’s follow-up emails for weeks, then months, then ever—apparently the managing editor simply never responded. I just typed “lol” then deleted it.


Known affectionately as The ᴀssless Champion, the Blue Whale actually earnestly believes that it has anᴀss and struggles daily with what animals with ᴀsses struggle with, in terms of ᴀsses, according to an anomalously large contingency of Yale students who directed their dissatisfaction with The Obama Administration (itself a misdirection of something else) into convincing mainstream America that they could read Blue Whale brainscans as easily as the normal American can read McDonald’s menus. The incredible success of the Yale students ultimately caused the Blue Whale to be unconditionally revered by most American households, as it became reflexive and desirable (via vicariousness) to interpret every Blue Whale “questionable action” (or victimization) as an endearingly ᴛʀᴀɢɪᴄ result of (or overwhelmingly unfair addition to) their complex body-image misconceptions related to wanting to be beautiful in an impossible manner.

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