You know the sad part? It’s not even called Brontosaurus anymore.
This reminds me of a story I heard two decades ago, in a time before the WWW gained traction. A lawyer, of all people, told it when I, as a child, was present. I must scribble it down here—the closest text box at hand—lest it be lost forever in the vestiges of some untriggered synapses. Trigger warning: offensive!
(A soon-to-be dad waits in a hospital lounge to meet his newborn child. Finally, a somber doctor arrives, telling the soon-to-be dad that the baby boy has been delivered. The dad makes a leap of joy, loudly telling the others in the lounge “did you hear him, I’m a dad now! After all these years, I’m finally a dad!” The doctor then sadly informs him that the child hasn’t been born normal.
The dad says he doesn’t care, “it’s my baby, I’ll love him regardless! I want to see him right away!” So the doctor leads the dad to the first delivery room, where there lie babies without legs. The dad starts crying, and through tears mutters “It doesn’t matter, it’s my baby, I love him.”
But the doctor informs him they have not yet arrived in the right delivery room. So they proceed to the next one, in which there lie babies without arms nor legs. The dad breaks down in sobs, stammering “I’ll still love you and take care of you, my son.” But still, they had not arrived.
They proceed from delivery room to delivery room, and it becomes ever more ghastly and grim. Finally, the parent reduced to a state of utter despair, they arrive in the very last delivery room.
There, carefully draped on a pillow, lies an eye. The dad, horrified, approaches the eye. Gathering what remains of his composure, he puts on a brave face and a smile, and waves to the eye.
“Don’t bother”, the doctor says. “He’s blind.”)
The, eh, “moral” of the story, to tie it back into your post is, eh, don’t give up too much, don’t overspecialize? Alternatively, don’t keep your identity too small. Yea, that should sufficiently justify me telling the story.
You know the sad part? It’s not even called Brontosaurus anymore.
This reminds me of a story I heard two decades ago, in a time before the WWW gained traction. A lawyer, of all people, told it when I, as a child, was present. I must scribble it down here—the closest text box at hand—lest it be lost forever in the vestiges of some untriggered synapses. Trigger warning: offensive!
(A soon-to-be dad waits in a hospital lounge to meet his newborn child. Finally, a somber doctor arrives, telling the soon-to-be dad that the baby boy has been delivered. The dad makes a leap of joy, loudly telling the others in the lounge “did you hear him, I’m a dad now! After all these years, I’m finally a dad!” The doctor then sadly informs him that the child hasn’t been born normal.
The dad says he doesn’t care, “it’s my baby, I’ll love him regardless! I want to see him right away!” So the doctor leads the dad to the first delivery room, where there lie babies without legs. The dad starts crying, and through tears mutters “It doesn’t matter, it’s my baby, I love him.”
But the doctor informs him they have not yet arrived in the right delivery room. So they proceed to the next one, in which there lie babies without arms nor legs. The dad breaks down in sobs, stammering “I’ll still love you and take care of you, my son.” But still, they had not arrived.
They proceed from delivery room to delivery room, and it becomes ever more ghastly and grim. Finally, the parent reduced to a state of utter despair, they arrive in the very last delivery room.
There, carefully draped on a pillow, lies an eye. The dad, horrified, approaches the eye. Gathering what remains of his composure, he puts on a brave face and a smile, and waves to the eye.
“Don’t bother”, the doctor says. “He’s blind.”)
The, eh, “moral” of the story, to tie it back into your post is, eh, don’t give up too much, don’t overspecialize? Alternatively, don’t keep your identity too small. Yea, that should sufficiently justify me telling the story.