Oh dear ... I'm a California Red Legged Frog.
Well okay ... I do prefer tall cool grasses and wet meadows over a hot sun ... and I guess I'm not a picky eater. I'll eat just about anything though I do draw the line at beets, cats, guinea pigs, and insects.
But I don't wanna be a frog!
When I lived in the scrub desert of southern Arizona, I was shocked to find that come Fall, I'd have these frogs in my pond. They'd sing their songs at night and it wasn't a pleasant "ribbit-ribbit-ribbit.' It was a loud and irritating, "CROAAAAKKKKKK!" These frogs were like the Donald Trump of the amphibious world.
"CROAAAAKKKKKK!" (I'm so wealthy and successful)
"CROAAAAKKKKKK!" (I'm going to make America great again)
"CROAAAAKKKKKK!" (I'm like really smart)
"CROAAAAKKKKKK!" (And I have great hair) Well okay ... as far as I know, the Donald has never said that last part ... but we're probably all thinking that when we look at him, right? The man is 71 years of age? How can he have hair like that?
"CROAAAAKKKKKK!"