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It involves...actual goats?

Hello! Do you enjoy incorporating elements of the ancient discipline of yoga into your fitness routine? Have you developed the requisite properly calibrated appreciation for the improvements in strength, flexibility, and mental health that the practice may bring about? Are you a member of those strange corners of the Internet that have developed an unsettlingly passionate fondness for goats? I have important information to share: Goat yoga, heaven help us all, is probably available at a studio near you.

To be clear, "goat yoga" does not refer to some novel new pose for you, a seasoned yoga aficionado, to study, practice, and eventually master. It refers to a regular old yoga class that is punctuated by actual goats wandering aimlessly in between you and your fellow yogis and doing...goat stuff, I guess. From NBC4 in Los Angeles:

During the studio's classes, two baby Nigerian dwarf goats, Pippin andSpanky, climb on people's backs, run between their legs and,sometimes, chew on their hair as they work through Vinyasa poses.

Look at these people who are definitely having a good time, and who are not at all terrified of the creature that has little to no regard for their personal space:

Far be it from me to cruelly and spitefully denigrate any of the fellow creatures with which we must share this fragile Earth. (Notable exception: most cats.) But may I humbly suggest that it is unnecessary to combine an activity undertaken for the purpose of physical fitness with an activity undertaken for the purpose of cooing uncontrollably at the furry little guy nibbling daintily at your toes and/or nuzzling adorably up against your Warrior II pose? Can this possibly present enough of a challenge to make it qualify as a workout? Is nothing sacred anymore, America?

Consider this quote from the proprietor of a goat-yoga class in Cleveland, which I think is supposed to be a selling point of this person's wares:

"Don't come expecting a stuffy yoga class," Jones says assuredly. "Thisis about letting go, having fun and interacting with the goats. Theyact a lot like dogs. Half the class is doing yoga poses. The otherhalf have a baby goat in their lap, feeding them. It's just aboutbeing in the moment."

I willingly concede that stuffy yoga classes are dreadful. Furthermore, I, like Vincent Chase, also enjoy being "in the moment." But this is not a description of a yoga class. This is a petting zoo! There is a time and place for petting zoos, and to be specific, the time is "not when I'm about to exercise" and the place is "not in the immediate vicinity of the place in which I am about to exercise." (To those hawking goat-yoga classes that also include a wine tasting, I ask in genuine bafflement: What the hell are you people doing?)

Goats are...fine, I guess. But the apparent emergence of goat yoga is the clearest sign yet that the novelty yoga craze has gone too far. We as a society must recognize some reasonable limits on the universe of variables we will introduce into our fitness regimens of choice to make them feel marginally less tedious or difficult. Together, let us aim to improve our fitness the old-fashioned way: without a live animal clambering up on your stomach in the middle of holding wheel pose.

(Beer yoga, though? That's still fine. Long live beer yoga.)

Watch Now:

Here, a Goat-Free Yoga Workout

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Read more here:
Goat Yoga Is the Most Damning Evidence Yet That the Novelty Yoga Is Out of Control - GQ Magazine