Let's all agree that dolphins are the 'smart kids who don't apply themselves' of the Animal Kingdom

It’s Wednesday, which means it’s time to get what’s been eating at you off your chest in another edition of The Gripe Report.

Now that it’s summer, more and more people will be going outside… unless, of course, it’s dangerously hot like it has been in parts of the country, in which case, maybe stay inside.

And when you’re outside, your chances of encountering wild animals go up exponentially.

I’ve always been fascinated by the animal kingdom, but it’s a part of the natural world that is far from gripe-proof.

So, I decided to put together a few animal-related gripes so we could give some of the most frustrating fauna its due.

I’ve got no problem with dolphins. I swam with them once, and they were cool to me.

One even pulled me around a lagoon like a Jet Ski with a blowhole.

I’m just tired of everyone telling me how smart dolphins are when obvious things are holding them back from realizing their full potential.

That’s all I’m saying.

BOY STUMBLES ON STRANGE BEACH OBJECT IDENTIFIED AS RARE 1.8M-YEAR-OLD FOSSIL

The first thing I always point out when someone tells me what eggheads dolphins are is what smart animal would breathe air and decide, "Yeah, I’m going to post up in the water for my entire life."

My French bulldog isn’t going to be writing any thesis papers, but he understands that you can’t breathe in water.

Also, while they’ve shown they know how to smash crabs open with rocks, I feel like intelligence is only good if you can apply it, and it’s hard to apply it without hands.

That might be the thing holding dolphins back the most.

So, I guess if we’re talking water-dwelling mammals without hands, they’re like Einstein, Stephen Hawking, and Edison rolled into one… if they lived underwater and had no hands, of course.

Just last week, I woke up to my wife on her hands and knees sweeping something by the front door.

"Welp. They’re back," she said.

"Aw, man; not poltergeists!" I said.

"No, ants."

"Oh… that’s bad too."

We live in the bright, sunny free state of Florida, and when we get into the summer months, it doesn’t just become surface-of-the-sun hot; ants decide to saunter inside and cool off.

In fact, just a couple of weeks earlier we had been remarking how well the guy we pay to make sure this very thing doesn’t happen had done… then it became ant season yet again.

I understand the humble ant’s place in the ecosystem (although I’m still unclear on the fire ant’s place, unless it’s to bite my feet while I take the dog out to pee, in which case, I get it). I just don’t like that they want to come in my house.

I’m not just anti-insect either. I’m anti-any animal that wants to come in my house.

There are few things I hate more than having to try to catch small lizards inside by hitting them off the ceiling with a broom and then trapping them under a Ziploc container.

Fortunately, after filling a small crack near the front door and calling our exterminator, we haven’t seen any ants… of course, I’m sure they're just plotting their next move as we speak.

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but for my entire life, I’ve suffered from ornithophobia, or, to the layperson, the fear of birds.

If it’s got feathers, a sharp beak, beady eyes, and creepy, spindly legs, then I steer well clear.

But a subsection of birds I can’t stand are the ones that can talk.

First of all, it’s creepy as hell. Maybe it wouldn’t be if more animals had it in their bag of tricks, but my skin crawls whenever a parrot starts getting chatty.

I also don’t like that, despite this chattiness, these birds never offer anything insightful.

It’s nothing but talk of wanting crackers, saying its own name, and repeating swear words you taught it as a goof.

While I’m not big on these birds, I will say I’m all in on gorillas who can do sign language and dogs who communicate with an array of electronic buttons.

Call it mammalian bias, but I’m a big fan.

Of course, it’s always important to be safe around animals, and that’s why it drives me nuts that not only are we not getting clear messaging on what to do if you’re attacked by a bear, we’re getting conflicting reports.

If I were to get attacked by a shark — let’s just pretend I was surfing and caught a really nice wave that impressed all the women on the beach and also I have really great surfer hair and a ripped physique — I would know what to do. I would start punching it in the nose and gouging its eyes.

That is the guidance on sharks… although, I don’t think there’s an animal on Earth that this approach wouldn’t work on.

But bears are different.

I’ve heard that if you encounter one, you’re supposed to get really small.

However, I’ve also heard that you’re supposed to make yourself as big as possible.

You can’t do both, so in the moment, you have to pick one and hope it’s correct.

The same goes for what to do about making noise. Some say you stay quiet; others say you make a ton of noise.

Can we just decide once and for all if we should turn into church mice when we see bears or if we should put a Bluetooth speaker on full blast and play Slayer’s "South of Heaven" as loud as possible and blast it in their bear ears?

Maybe the real answer is you can do pretty much anything you want to avoid a bear attack, but then what were the people who got attacked and didn’t live to talk about it doing? Pulling on its tail? Throwing sticks at it? Insulting its mother?

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That’s it for this week’s edition of The Gripe Report!

Be sure to send in your gripes for a future edition: matthew.reigle@outkick.com