Rock & Roll Dinosaurs

So I've been thinking a lot about a dinosaur rock band. Not a dinosaur-rock band, where we play Eagles songs and reminisce about the '60s - which would be silly, since I'm not old enough to reminisce about the '60s. I'm talking about a rock band made up of dinosaurs.

The genesis of this is one of my newly-favourite t-shirts. And as much fun as a t-rex wailing on the drums in rock 'n roll ecstasy is, that's not how I'd structure my band. Oh no.

• Ankylosaurus on drums, because he's got a built-in bass pedal in that knobby tail of his. (Runner-up is a Pteranodon, because they've got the long arms to reach.)

• Triceratops on bass, because it looks like a lizard with rhythm, and also perhaps possesses funk which it could bring in and/or give us.

• Iguanodon on keyboards, because neither gets enough respect. Who's in a permanent state of thumbs up? This guy, that's who.

• Tyrannosaurus rex on guitar. Sure, he's got little arms, but he makes up for it with heart. And his big head. And I hate the high, wailing bullshit guitar-playing anyway. And he wants to play guitar and you want to tell him he can't? Not in this band you won't, and fuck you for trying.

• Velociraptor on lead vocals, because the Christian Slater-narrated Walking With Dinosaurs episode on them told me they had feathers and were fast and lithe, and dammit, I want a showman up front.

• This band doesn't have a cello, but they know a brachiosaurus who writes and plays the most haunting cello music you've ever heard, and sometimes they bring her into the studio.

You may ask "Why do you waste your time thinking about dinosaur rock bands?"

To which I'd respond "Why do you waste your time wearing pants and breathing air?"

Yes, I'm a sarcastic git. But it's also my roundabout way of saying that I'm a product of my culture and evolution.

My culture revels in absurdity and wallows in a wealth of unacknowledged irony. A liberal Canadian newspaper asking the question of whether or not it's appropriate that Michelle Obama got off of Air Force One wearing shorts. What the fuck? That's almost as inappropriate as asking why she wasn't in the kitchen, or if a woman who works can still be a good parent. It's not like she was wearing hot pants and go-go boots to a black-tie ball honouring... I don't know, something honourable. Nothing comes to mind because I don't really have any convictions. But you see what I mean, despite the fact that she's totally got the legs for hot pants. Point: they're just shorts, and she's still a person. Why is this a question, and why is it news?

My genetic hard wiring has me set down as a social ape who requires a certain amount of belonging within a larger community. Since that little community I like to call humanity is little weird, and I am not apart from my community, I too am a little weird. I just don't pretend that I'm not, and like to point it out as our most-shared characteristic now and then.

And so the result of all of this that I wear absurd t-shirts that make me laugh and help me shrug off the bizarre little circus that surrounds us on a daily basis. I can put up with most things if I'm wearing a little bit of entertainment. A little something that reminds me that I'm just as absurd as any of the other 6.7 billion apes in my extended family.

So then, my fellow Earthicans: who's in your dinosaur rock band?