Part of an Eternal Plan

Having stumbled upon what seemed a comparison to a gale-force President--that is to say, "pouting like a pufferfish"--which fish is also called a blowfish (this is becoming too true to be a mere coincidence), I am wondering if Darwin was wrong, and that perhaps there is a Master Craftsman somewhere up in the sky who knew all of this would eventually become obvious because Master Craftsmen leave nothing to chance and necessity.

A pufferfish. A blowfish. Blowing himself (sic) up to look large and unappetizing. Sucking in water, actually. A poisonous creature.

Pufferfish do not speak in whole sentences, as they are linguistically limited to 140 characters, so when they belch sometimes the meaning is not clear, except when they assume the role of sportscasters lamenting the lack of violence in the sport, when 140 characters is more than adequate.

I feel better just knowing that this all may be part of an eternal plan, first devised about . . . oh . . . five or six thousand years ago. I would hate to think this was our fault.

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