So, I find the weirdest crap on the internet. It always starts innocently enough, with a simple search for facts. Then all of sudden I stumble into one of those rabbit holes and, inevitably, follow it all the way down.
This particular rabbit hole appeared because I was looking up information about my blood type. I never bothered to find out my blood type until I started trying to get pregnant about 12 years ago. I had to have RhoGam shots with each pregnancy because I am Rh-negative. Several years later, in Microbiology lab, I found out I was O-negative.
Remembering something about blood types from an old “M*A*S*H” episode, I looked up O-negative blood type. In addition to finding out that I am a so-called universal donor (but not a universal recipient), I found out that my blood type influences my ideal diet and my personality! I scoffed at the diet recommendations and dismissed the personality stuff as pure bunk. But I was rather intrigued by the sixth entry Google gave me-this.
According to this dude on the internet my O-negative blood means much more than RhoGam shots and the Red Cross needing my services. Apparently my blood type indicates that I am descended from a race of super-advanced reptilians who secretly control the world. But then there’s this theory that rh-negative blood is a mutation from “normal” blood.
This is all very interesting but if I’m really descended from crypto-lizard overlords then I really must protest this shabby treatment! Where is my unimaginable wealth and power, huh? Why don’t I have fawning sycophants rubbing my feet and peeling my grapes? But no, I have to get my own grapes and earn my own money. And instead of adoring followers I have a nice husband who tells me I’m pretty and kids who sometimes decide to do what I tell them.
Of course there’s still that mutation-option. But I have to tell you that if I could pick the kind of mutant I was, I sure wouldn’t pick the type of mutation that causes painful shots and transfusion issues. No, I’d pick the kind that causes levitation, then I wouldn’t need anybody to rub my feet!
Maybe I’ll just call the Red Cross. They won’t peel me any grapes, but I understand I get to lay down and then they give me a cookie. It’s not ruling the world, but I guess it’ll just have to do.