Monday, September 14, 2015
Monkeys & Circuses
Yeah, so right now, there’s a whole bunch of abandoned monkeys loafing around on a whole bunch of circus tent fabric, twiddling thumbs and looking kinda pissed off.
This bunch of monkeys ain’t even a united bunch.
This bunch of monkeys is an amalgamation of a whole bunch of monkey sub-bunches.
And even the amalgamation is more of an unlucky accident than any kinda meticulously deliberated mass primate welding.
Don’t even get me started on the rag rug mismatch of circus tent fabric colours.
No one’s in charge of these rejected primates, and pretty soon they’re all gonna start pecking at one another’s bumholes and pulling on fur for fleas.
Then the food will run out, some of the bigger monkeys will start bossing the rest of the assembled apehood around, and a suffocated human cannonball will roll from a flap of tent fabric to provoke a bloodbath.
Maybe then, the ringmasters responsible for this whole debacle will figure the folly of their ways and rush to reclaim their monkey and circus combos, cracking the whip anew and parading around in top hats till every last chimp knows its place in the grand scheme of things and can juggle bananas to order.
My problem here is this:
With so many monkeys whooping and a-dooping about the place, and crumpled circus tent after crumpled circus tent barfing up blue strongman after strangulated acrobat troupe after asphyxiating mother of three, how will the ringmasters successfully round up all of their own monkeys — and only their own monkeys?
Now they’ve been given the freedom to hang out long enough to want to kill each other or riot, those monkeys are going to fit back inside their respective tents like unleashed genies slip neatly back into bottles.
Bet none of the ringmasters thought about that when they nonchalantly dropped their circusloads of monkeys on the world to writhe and scream in a pre-insurrection cesspit of primate fear and anger.
But hey — not my problem...