I am not a robot. Or a bird.  I am neither plant nor mineral. I am not a whisper. Or a napkin. Or a vacuum cleaner. I am not the first day of Spring. Or a tapir. Or a jelly doughnut. I am not a gazelle. Or a matchstick. Or a showtune. I am not a chest of drawers. I am not the wind. Or a frisbee. I am not a golden ticket. Or a goose. Or, for that matter, gold. I am not a dinosaur. Not even an Archaeopteryx. I am not a ham radio operator. Or a ham radio. Much as I might wish I was a grilled cheese sandwich, I am not.

Nor am I an old, oak tree. But you already knew that. I am not a dixie cup. Or a Dixie Chick. Or whistling dixie. I am not an ant. Or an anteater. Or a vombatus ursinus. I am not a box of chocolates. I am not Iron Man. Or Iron Maiden. Neither a waffle-iron nor a tire-iron. I am not an iron. I am not iron, period. I am not a book of matches. Or a beagle. Or the HMS Beagle. I am not part of the Badger Island Group. I am not a badge. Not a police badge, a security badge, or a merit badge. I am not a book, open or otherwise. I am not a crook. Nor am I Richard Nixon.

I am not the best thing since sliced bread. Or bread. Or a bread box. Or a beat box. I am not the Fat Boys. Or Bob’s Big Boy. Neither big. Nor little. Or Little Big Horn. I am not custard.

I am not a fruit bat. Or a Fruit Loop. I am not Candyland. Or Connect Four. I am not a checker board. Or a cheese board. Or a smorgasbord. I am not a Swedish meatball. Or a cat named “Meatball.” I am not a cat. I am not the sound of water slipping passed the drain. I am not a blanket. Not a sheet nor a sham. I do not have a thread count. I am not an abacus. Or a calculator.

I am not one of those eyeballs in the back of your head. Or the front. If I was you, I would consider finding out who is. Fast. But I’m not you. I am not Joseph’s amazing technicolor dreamcoat. I am not Joseph’s everyday technicolor dreamcoat either.

I am not a tuna.

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