The Role of Monkeys in This, Our World

Let's be honest, we've known for a long time that the monkeys are a problem.  Maybe not a problem on the same scale as, say, the sharks, but when it comes to animals on the earth which are likely to try to take over and remove us from the top of the food chain, monkeys are on the top ten list, somewhere between kittens and werewolves.

Look how the monkey corrupted this poor guy with the eye patch.

It's because of our history.  We know that monkeys might look cute, but are often Nazis, like in Raiders of the Lost Ark (spoiler alert).

We know that monkeys sometimes run into a town and beat everyone up and steal the liquor. We know that so-called ninja monkeys sometimes fight the hand that trains them.  We know that monkeys sneak into kitchens and steal food and shiny objects.  Monkeys, in brief, are big trouble.

But our clever friends in India have come up with a solution to the world's monkey problem: USE MONKEYS TO FIGHT THE MONKEYS!  I am amazed by the ingenuity.  Stay tuned and I will look for video of a monkey vs. monkey smack down. 

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if someone would train some sharks to eat some other sharks.  Gracias.

Bold Links, complete with Exclamation Points (!)

KILLER ELEPHANT ON THE LOOSE!

BBC India reports that there is a serial killer elephant on the loose.  He has killed at least 10 female elephants and his signature kill has to do with puncturing his victims with a broken tusk. 

This sounds like a job for... BOBO THE DETECTIVE CHIMP!

If ever there were a time that the world needed a real, live detective chimp, this would be that time.

CONTROVERSY OVER CHURCH NAME SHORTAGE!

You've probably already heard all the controversy surrounding the shortage of church names.  This is by far the best article I've seen on the topic.  It's an important issue that all Christians should weigh in on.

AMAZING SHRINKING HORSE!

BHR correspondent @mrkengos writes in to tell us that horses are getting smaller all the time. Soon you will be able to carry them in a purse or handbag, or carry them on an airplane.  I would appreciate it if no one ever mentioned this to my children.

ROBOTS ARE DESCRIBING IMAGINARY JESUS!

At least I assume it is robots.  It might be poorly paid interns.  Regardless, you can see my careful study of the fruits of their labor here. 

Ninja Monkeys

I mentioned a story about Ninja Monkeys last week, and it was wisely pointed out that I had put the wrong link in the story.  I tried to fix it but was having trouble because the internet of New Zealand hates monkeys.  It's true.  If you are in New Zealand and search for monkeys, nothing will come up on your search.

ANYWAY, here is the real article, in which a man in China is attacked by the very monkeys which he has trained.  It is tragic.

Also... racist?  Notice that the Chinese monkeys who have learned a Korean martial art (taekwondo is their martial art of choice according to the article) are referred to as ninjas... the famous Japanese assassins.  Hmmm.  Now the veracity of the article has been thrown into doubt.  Please ellucidate in the comments section.

When we lived in Asia my wife disliked the Monkey Beggars.  They would come with their monkeys on a rope and make the monkeys do flips and tricks.  I always thought they were cool.  And I thought it was funny when a man would jump into a taxi with his monkey.  I always suspected they were zoo workers who made a little extra on the weekends after hours.  Krista was always worried the monkeys would bite the children or do some other primate thing which would be upsetting.  So one day when I saw the monkey beggers all gathered behind a restaurant taking a smoke break with their monkeys I went over and asked them if I gave them twenty bucks, would they stay away from my wife from now on... and after that any time they saw her coming, they walked to the other side of the street.  Which I thought was pretty nice of them.  Of course, I did give them twenty bucks, too.

In conclusion, despite the fact that they use their mixed martial arts to attack their own masters, monkeys are awesome.

Show Me The Monkey

CALIFORNIA -- The search for Moe, the missing chimpanzee, has come to a halt. Moe escaped from Jungle Exotics, a company that specializes in renting animals to the entertainment industry. Despite helicopter searches and extensive ground searches little trace of Moe has been found.


One confirmed sighting came from the Deer Park Nudist Colony. "I knew something was wrong," said nudist Frank Gerheim, "When I saw someone in a top hat and vest, carrying a cane. On closer inspection, however, I saw that he wasn't wearing pants. He was incredibly hairy, but let's be honest, most beautiful people don't feel the need to join a nudist colony. Also, he was riding a unicycle.  And wearing a monocle."

LaDonna Davis, Moe's owner, is not ready to give up yet. "We're going to try new tactics," she said. "We have two in mind, but I can't say what they are yet." This is presumably to prevent Moe from reading about the tactics on the internet, which would allow him to avoid the suspiciously large pile of bananas at the "Every Which Way But Loose" outdoor movie later this week.

Moe the Chimpanzee did not immediately return calls to his cell phone requesting a comment.

Survey Results

Well, the results are in. Actually, they've been in for a while. I asked for your input and advice about why you come to BHR. I hate it when people manipulate surveys, and I want you to know that we will use the scientific results of this survey in the most logical and linear manner possible.

Let's take a look at the results, shall we?

A full 69% of you said you read BHR because "This one time I was reading it and I laughed so hard that milk came out my nose and sprayed all over my computer." This means that the vast majority of you read this because either you love laughing, or love giving your computer an occasional nostil milk bath. We are looking into some marketing possibilities with this in mind, like handkerchiefs with the BHR logo on them.

Coming in at 23% is a population of people who are apparently being held captive by monkeys and--rather than answering the survey--selfishly decided to call attention to their plight. This is just what we would expect from people ignorant enough to be captured by monkeys. I am sorry the monkeys are forcing you to read this. BAD MONKEYS! STOP THAT!

6% of you are coming for the deep ministry insights. Um. Sorry about that. We'll try to have more of that. 9% are coming because there aren't deep ministry insights. We'll do our best to keep that up.

2% of you read BHR because it's slightly less boring than standing in line at the DMV. I would just add, it's also slightly less productive.

Thank you to all of you who participated in the survey. I'll do my best to continue to bring you precisely what you, the adoring public, demand.

Revolutionary Advice With Matt

Dear Matt,

I heard it's unsafe to flush old medications, which is what I've always done. What's the best way to get rid of them?

Signed,

Sitting On A Crapload of Old Medicine

Dear Crapload,

An excellent question, especially since in some states it's now illegal to throw your old medicines in the trash, in an attempt to keep drug addicts and racoons from getting hopped up on your leftover medications.

I personally prefer to flush my leftover medications in neighborhoods other than my own, primarily because I am concerned that alligators in the sewer may become either enormous or psychotic, rise from the sewers and bite off me hand.

The public restroom in any Starbucks is a safe place to do away with those medications. The alligators near any Starbucks are already out of control due to the amount of caffeine that seeps into the groundwater. Sewer alligators near Starbucks locations have up to eleven times more caffeine in their blood than other wild alligators. A slight increase in pharmacy castoffs seems to calm them somewhat, and I've found that the incidence of sewer alligator attacks in my neighborhood has decreased nearly 27% since I began to discard our old medicine there.

If you are the sort of calloused individual unwilling to do the extra work to do away with your extra medications, it may be that your neighborhood has a Collector Monkey. Many Organ Grinder Monkeys have been out of work in the last few years, and now they wander about on unicycles gathering leftover medications to deliver to the recycling center.

Terror on Hong Island

Today the family jumped into a truck, then jumped into a longboat and motored out to the islands.

Our first stop was Koh Hong, a beautiful island and a Thai national park. We swam, snorkled and built pristine white sand castles.

After a while, my wife Krista, my daughter Z, my parents and my father-in-law decided to go on a hike through the jungle. Krista's mom and our other daughter, A, stayed on the beach to play.

About halfway down the trail, Krista and my Mom turned back. We continued on, climbing over fallen trees and swinging on the occasional vine. Z seemed unaccountably frightened the whole time and kept asking if we could turn back. No, I assured her, there was nothing to be afraid of here.

Toward the end of the trail we came across a boat graveyard in the middle of the island, remnants of the tsunami. The splintered boats had ivy and jungle vegetation creeping over them, another testimony to nature's power.

The trail looped back to the starting point and we returned to our spot on the beach to discover that Krista and Mom had not yet returned. It seemed odd that we would get there before them... they had left well before the trail's halfway point.

I went back to the trailhead and started down the trail again. Perhaps one of them had turned their ankle and were waiting for someone to come along and help the get back to the beach. I reached the place where they had turned back and there was no sign of them. I walked a little deeper into the jungle and I heard a high and distant, "Haaaallo!" that sounded unmistakeably like my Mother's voice.

It's just a bird, I told myself. Or an animal. I stopped and listened. "Haaaallo!" I was almost certain it was my mother, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I ran ahead on the path, thinking they must be hurt. Why wasn't Krista calling out also? Could she be hurt or unconscious? It seemed unlikely, but maybe they had been kidnapped? "Haaaaallo!"

No, no, I told myself. That must be a bird or something. They are safely back on the beach, I'm sure.

I had noticed a short cut through the jungle and back to the beach. I ran along it and came out on the beach long enough to see that they still hadn't returned. That must have actually been my mother calling out, although why she didn't call for help or shout our names eluded me. I ran back along the jungle path, moving quickly. I stopped where I had heard the earlier cries, but now all I heard were the sounds of the jungle. Birds calling, distant longboats, crashing as animals forced their way through the underbrush.

I made a last trek back toward camp, watching the undergrowth for signs of someone being pulled off the path and into the thick tangle of vegetation. I watched for signs of a scuffle on the red clay path. I bent and studied suspect branches and broken twigs.

I stopped. An enormous lizard, easily four feet long, walked the path beside me. A monitor lizard. It saw me and slinked back into the jungle. A few feet farther and I saw another one, just as my father and father-in-law came up the path to tell me that Krista and Mom had returned to "camp."

They had come across the lizards a few moments after they left us. One of the reptiles stood in the path, defiantly watching them and refusing to move. After a short time the ladies decided to try to catch up with us, but we were too far along. By the time I went into the jungle looking for them, they were farther along the path and Mom was shouting HAAAAALLO hoping that it would scare off any native wildlife (rather than terrifying her son).

In the end, I don't think anyone appreciated how genuinely terrified I felt for those ten minutes. All the worst case scenarios went through my head, and yes, some of those were informed by the fact that I watch the television show LOST. I have to admit, none of the worst case scenarios in my head involved monitor lizards. But some of them involved a troop of monkeys, and at least one involved deranged pirate-like people.

Everyone's safely home now. Including, so far as I know, the monitor lizards.

More Monkey Island Slogans

I was thinking about the post above, and I started feeling bad for whoever came to BHR seeking monkey island slogans. I mean, the basic idea of an island full of monkeys is something we here at BHR fully support.

We've never really had any monkey island slogans on this blog. And that just made me sad. And a little angry. Whoever runs this thing is dumb for never thinking of it before.

So.

Here are some Monkey Island Slogans:

"No Phones! No Lights! No Motor Cars!"

"Clothes Optional."

"Monkey Island... Now A Video Game!"

"No Tail, No Service."

"Coming In Three Million Years: Cro-Magnon Island."

"More Fun Than Monkey Peninsula."

Okay. That was fun. Now you guys add some in the comments.

New Delhi and Krista agree: Monkeys are Bad

The city of New Delhi has decided to take its monkey problem seriously ever since its deputy mayor fell off a balcony and died while chasing after the furry hooligans.

Here's a great article in the NY Times all about New Delhi's Primate Problem.

I think that we could have a monkey in our home if only Krista were willing to make the sacrifices being asked of the citizens of New Dehli, "The only way is to ignore them. Never look a monkey in the eye, never raise your eyebrows at one: it’s interpreted as a challenge."

How to Buy a Monkey

You may recall that before we were married, Krista told me that I could buy a monkey.

Alas, that dream is dead now.

But if I know the BHR readers, there are several of you out there still considering a primate for a pet. I came across this article today about how to buy a monkey and thought you would enjoy it.

Tigers vs. Monkey... FIGHT!

I think it's important that you watch this video.

Krista and I have always disagreed about monkeys. Before we were married she told me I could have one, so that's still on the table. I just have to save enough money for the rabies shots.

Anyway, while we were watching this video I asked: "Why would a monkey do that to a tiger?"

Krista: "Because they are antagonistic and mean."

But let's be serious... who hasn't wanted to go up to a baby tiger and pull its tail?

p.s. I miss Chinese television.

Welcome to the Revolution

As long time members of the BHR community know, I like to take an occasional time out to say hello to those who have stumbled upon our humble revolution via search engine.

So, let me start by welcoming everyone who has been searching for Ladies Revolution Pants. Yes, there is a reason that our site comes up first on google when ladies seek revolutionary slacks. We have a long tradition of stylish yet comfortable pants which allow freedom of movement whether you are overthrowing a corrupt government or just chanting "power to the people" in a city square. Lady Godiva, this one is for you!

And, secondly, allow me to extend warm greetings to those who searched for the phrase do not sign a "burning hearts" contract. I personally don't see any harm in signing such a contract, unless what you meant to type was, "Don't sign a burning 'hearts contract.'" I've spoken with several firefighters and they all agree with Frank Jones of Portland who says, "Never sign any document that is aflame."

Now for a shocking announcement sure to baffle and amaze you all... I think it's time for a name change around here. In November this blog will have been up and running for two whole years. And during that time people have accidentally wandered here because they were looking for Ladies Revolution Pants or Burning Heart Contracts or What To Do When You Are Torn Between Two Hearts or "monkey he got drunk". In the interest of bringing in more readers to the website formerly known as BHR, we will soon be changing the name of this blog to Paris Hilton Loves Harry Potter. It's cool because its initials are a palindrome: PHLHP. Sew it on your sweater, baby.