Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Monkey Business

My least favorite movie of all time is Dr. Dolittle. It could be my detachment from the animal kingdom, or my lack of enthusiasm for what has become of Eddie Murphy's golden years. Either way, I can overlook Eddie's half-assed attempts at cinema, but not the worldwide love for all things furry.

Aside from infants, I don't trust any creature that can't communicate with me. Barking, hissing, growling, & chirping don't count. Any being that can "go to the bathroom" anywhere, clearly isn't worthy of my friendship. & as far as companionship, that's what God created television for. I've never had to swat my TV for making a "poo" in the corner, or chewing up my good pair of Sunday shoes.

So, I'm extremely fascinated with those individuals who cater to animals like they're people. Namely wild animals. Specifically primates. We'll just refer to them as monkeys.

Human & monkey genetics are only different by one gene. Apparently it's the one that counts, because no matter how much they're embraced as our social kin, they continue to behave in a fashion that demands a caged environment. We can dress them up as people, give them roles in movies (watch out Eddie!), teach them neat tricks like how to drive cars & smoke cigarettes, but as soon as the chance avails itself they'll be flinging feces & trying to eat babies in a heartbeat.

Most people don't realize the strength that even small monkey's possess. An average sized one can rip a grown man's arm from it's rotator cup with minimal effort. Their teeth are larger & sharper than that goofy looking kid that sat in the back of your geometry class. The ones we see on television have usually gone through some sort of mani/pedi, so most are unaware of the claws their huge hands have. Basically, if Death were lovable & furry, it would look like a monkey.

Bears are cute too, until they decided that they are having liver for dinner. Your liver.

I can't help but chuckle lightly when I see some poor schlub mauled by their pet orangutan, or disfigured by their spidermonkey named "Ralphie". These are beasts, by God's decree, otherwise we'd all be animals, or all be people.

In some far of galaxy, maybe people are kept in zoo's for the enjoyment of animal families, but I don't live in that one. I live in this one, where a woman's best friend has suffered "life-altering" injuries at the hands of her pet monkey. In other words, the thing probably bite off half her face, & maybe a digit or three. That is utterly amazing.

Reports say that the owner not only referred to the animal as "her son", but she also drank wine with it, & gave it Xanax for whatever ailments it suffered from. When the woman's friend attempted to visit it, it did what any drunken, drug-filled wild animal would do. Attack. Notice the repeated usage of the term "it", due to the fact that animals are "it"s. There is no gray area. Regardless of some human-given moniker, God called it "ooh ooh ahh ahh", not "Bo Bo" or "Sally".

Usually, I facilitate a degree of compassion for those harmed unintentionally, but this situation is out of my jurisdiction.

An adult human with stable motor & cognitive skill can't be given a handgun without fear of homicide, so why assume some gorilla larva is going to play nice with the children. My kid's are lobbying for cats & dogs to no avail, so I'll be damned if I allow something in my living quarters that can murder us 17 different ways AND eat all my snacks.

Wake up America. It's in the #1 best selling book of all times. We lord over animals because they are not our equals. Get with the program or we will continue to be target practice for bubbles & his less friendly relatives.