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5:35 p.m. - 2001-11-02
I wouldn't have to work if I were a baboon
Each keystroke is misplaced. Each letter you read on this screen has been misdirected. The effort put forth at this very second should be focused toward the production of a cover letter to be sent out with various resume, in an attempt to secure employment.

I hate work. The philosophy that working is for saps has long been my mantra. I would love to go into a long tirade discussing the many ways that the work a day world is just a societal trap, but only because it would serve as a tool of distraction and a method of procrastination.

I recently, much to my disappointment, changed the outgoing message on my voicemail from an extremely effective 45 second T.V. clip, to a boring and un-confusing "you have reached so and so at such and such" deal, so as not to prematurely reveal what an idiot I am to any potential employers my new resume suckers into calling me. When I say my last out going message was effective, I mean effective in the sense that nearly half of the people who sat through the thing in order to leave a message, did so just so they could voice their displeasure in having had to listen to it.

Very amusing.

Ironically, having just changed it to bearable but informative, including a clear name announcement and a repetition of the # dialed, I have received not one, but two different messages intended for someone other than me, no doubt at a number other than mine.

My soon to be new job is already making my life less enjoyable.

If you are like me, you think monkeys are very funny. More than that, a monkey wearing clothing is very, very funny. And, the be all and end all of hilarity is a monkey wearing a hat.

Monkeys don't need to wear clothes. We can all agree to that much. Whether humans need to or not is debatable, obviously in colder climates it is imperative, but we would probably get by in the nude for the most part. IRregardless, most of us don clothing on a daily basis, even if it is just because Adam and Eve had a hankering for a juicy Granny Smith.

So, if dressing a monkey up to make it more "people like" serves a great comedic purpose, why then do I find it even more delightful to see one with a fez, beret, fedora or any other manner of chapeau?

Because even people don't need to wear those things. They are decoration. You could argue that a chimp might be more comfortable in slacks, more mobile in roller skates, less squinty in shades or even less messy in a big ass diaper, but a hat is merely a testament to one's personal style.

The idea that a baboon has a personal style is very amusing to me, as is the notion that he cares more about broadcasting his personal taste than do the majority of the humans in North America. I don't wear a fucking hat for chrissakes.

You know what will make me laugh every time I see it? Next time you are at blockbuster, go find the box for a video titled "MVP". The "P" stands for primate. I have yet to have the pleasure of renting it, but using brilliant deductive reasoning skills, I have studied the box and come to the conclusion that it tells the tale of a chimpanzee's use of incredible hockey skills to secure the championship for a local boy's team against all odds. Whoever was commissioned to design the box gave away the ending by showing a picture of said primate holding the gold cup high above his head in apparent victory, ruining any suspense the film promised as it unfolded. Shitty.

But I suspect that I will still rent the film one day, because there is sure to be some amusing surprises in the plot, such as how the ape thwarts the bully's team, or maybe the evil coach getting some manner of messy food stuffs delivered to his person through the air.

If you have seen it, please don't tell me anything. I am trying desperately to live in "MVP silence" so I can enjoy the experience to the fullest when I do get around to it.

Hockey playin' monkeys, don't that beat all?

Fuck, I wish I was a primate.


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