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Bipedal Monkeys Rule

I'm busy getting ready for trial, so I don't have time to think about anything interesting. But this monkey is worth sharing. It started walking upright after recovering from a serious stomach ailment.

Perhaps this means that early man descended from the trees and began walking upright simply because his stomach hurt. Boy, the scientists that had those crazy theories about climate change, and aquatic apes, and brain size mutations must be feeling pretty stupid right about now.

More Monkey Talk Thoughts (2-16-2004)

So, I'm reading the story of the ten little monkeys jumping on the bed. It goes something like this (over and over and over) "One fell down and bumped his head. Momma called the doctor and the doctor said 'No more monkeys, jumping on the bed.'" After the first page, there are nine such monkeys, then eight, then seven, and so on, none of whom learn the easy way -- by watching their foolish siblings getting hurt and thereafter avoiding the conduct that caused the injury. This is not a good lesson for little kids.

The story also ends without really telling us what we want to know. What happened to the first monkeys? How badly were they hurt? Which of the monkeys was the most seriously injured? Did they get spankings? And why didn't momma monkey watch the other baby monkeys more carefully after the first one fell? Your smarter toddlers want to know, but I don't have the teacher's edition that, I assume, has the answers to these questions.

I should stop talking about monkeys. I know this not so much because my friends and family have told me -- though they undoubtedly should have done so by now -- but, rather, because Google has made it quite clear that I talk too much about monkeys.

If you do a Google search for:
relaxed monkey
butt sniffing monkey or
monkey sniffing butt
and hit the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button, you will end up right back here at my bjournal.

This begs the question of why someone who is searching for a butt sniffing monkey would ever feel lucky, but apparently, some do. Typepad lets me see the links that draw people to this bjournal, and about ten percent come from Google and its butt sniffing monkey searches.

It's hard not to talk about monkeys, though, especially in this, the Year of the Monkey. And let's face it. Monkeys are cool. If you look at Yahoo's most popular pictures, you will usually find at least one or two photographs of monkeys. Why? Because people dig monkeys.

I hate spiders, but I love spider monkeys.

I hate rallies, but I love the Rally Monkey.

I hate flying, but I love the flying monkeys.

For years, I wondered what those flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz were called. I was recently disappointed to learn that they're just called flying monkeys.

I once jokingly referred to certain members of the United States Air Force as flying monkeys. I thought that, because I was in the company of a bunch of Navy guys, this would go over well. It didn't. They threatened to kick my ass. So I guess not everyone likes to be associated with monkeys. But, unlike Howard Cosell, I learned my lesson the easy way.

Why do I like monkeys? Largely because they are so much like humans. After all, humans are basically just complex, smart monkeys with souls, well developed voice boxes and written language skills. Have you seen Prophecy? I loved those scenes in which Christopher Walken's character, the bitter archangel Gabriel, keeps bitching about how much God loves the "talking monkeys." Talking monkeys? Oh, he means us.

My favorite movie ever was Altered States. The main reason, of course, was because I was fascinated by Professor Eddie Jessup's attempts to transmogrify himself into a monkey. Scientific experiments just don't get any better than that.

Some come close, though. Last year, some scientists performed an experiment to determine the likelihood that an infinite number of monkeys typing randomly on an infinite number of keyboards would eventually produce the works of Shakespeare.

Though the number of subject monkeys was finite, some people believe that they disproved the old theory. As it turns out, monkeys do not type randomly. Some don't type at all, but if they do type, they tend to prefer certain keys and will press the same favorite key or keys repeatedly.

In conducting this experiment, the same scientists inadvertently proved another long-suspected theory: that some scientists have wwwwwwwwway too much time -- and grant money -- on their hands.

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Relaxed Monkey Ring Thoughts (1/21/2004)

The Chinese New Year is upon us. 2004 is going to be the Year of the Monkey. To start the new year, Singapore Deputy Prime Minister Tony Tan urged citizens to be more like monkeys. Seriously. I hope he's not referring to the monkeys that scratch their own butts and knock themselves off tree limbs by sniffing their fingers. I've seen one of those. One is enough.

Do cable modems rock, or what? You can download a butt-sniffing monkey in nothing flat. That is important, because, if I'm waiting for a video of a monkey scratching his butt and sniffing it, I really don't want to invest too much time in it.

I finally went to see the Return of the King. Also a big investment of time, it was great, but the battle scenes were too long. Looking at the bright side, however, those scenes made good opportunities for restroom and popcorn breaks.

During one such break, for a moment, I thought I was a lord of the rings.

In the men's room, I saw an old man digging through the trash. Now, normally, I would never want to know why an old man was digging through the trash. It's never a happy story, and rarely a short one. This fellow was well dressed, however, and we were in a $10-a-ticket theater, so I was tempted. Before I could inquire, an employee walked in and asked "did you lose something, sir?" He said he had -- his wedding ring.

Five minutes later (same battle still raging), I'm getting popcorn when I spot a plain white band sitting on the counter. Thinking it to be a platinum or white gold wedding band, I informed the management. Sadly, the missing ring was yellow gold, with diamonds. And whoever lost this white ring apparently didn't miss it. Oh well; it's not my precious, but at least I got a cheap silver ring out of the experience.

If you Google "Fred Savage" and "Lord of the Rings," you get 2,700 hits, but absolutely no explanation of how they managed not to cast Savage as one of the hobbits.

Sean Astin is getting a lot of attention, maybe even Oscar consideration, for his brilliant portrayal of Samwise the Hobbit. Some critics are amazed by the interest Astin brought to the character, noting that Frodo, Aragorn and Gandalf should have relegated Sam to obscurity. Sam, however, is the moral and emotional compass of the entire Lord of the Rings series. His character is not unlike that of Nick Carraway in the Great Gatsby. He's one of the greatest characters in all of modern literature. And Astin played him perfectly. He is very talented.

My daughter's school has a talent show each year that features, among other things, dancing and singing acts. Not all songs are fair game, though. Many inappropriate songs have been banned. Among the banned songs is Avril Lavigne's "Skater boy," featuring these lyrics:

"Five years from now, she sits at home, feeding her baby, she's all alone."

Is that really so bad? It doesn't necessarily mean she did anything wrong. She could be divorced, through no fault of her own. Or perhaps her husband is dead, or off fighting in Iraq. Or maybe he's just working really long hours trying to work his way toward a law partnership. On the other hand, maybe she slept around, had a kid out of wedlock and is a single mom with no good future prospects. It's open to interpretation, I suppose.

But let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth, because, on the other hand, our 7th and 8th grade cheerleaders regularly perform a routine to the Frankie Goes to Hollywood classic, "Relax," which features lyrics that are less open to interpretation:

"Ow! Ow! Ow!
Relax, don't do it, when you want to suck to it,
Relax, don't do it, when you want to come.
Come!
Oh, oh, oh!
But shoot it in the right direction! ...
I'm coming! I'm coming!
Yeeeeeah!"

Yes, that is much better.

But not as good as this: cartoon character Beavis apparently was based on a real person -- this guy -- who was just caught burglarizing and vandalizing a home in Oregon. What did he need the money for? He wouldn't tell police, but, come on, it's obvious.

He needs it to buy Neosporin, of course.