Saturday, July 31, 2004

Let's Get Ready to Put Some Boxing Gloves on Monkeys and Watch Them Punch Each Other!

That's a little wordy, but I'm sure that's close to the translation of what Michael Buffer says before these fights where orangutangs are forced to kickbox one another. That's right, I said kickbox. Now, the history of animal fighting is a long and hilarious road, but normally these are just referred to as "fights" not kickboxing. Cock fights. Dog fights. And the less popular and much slower paced Three-toed sloth fights. But calling these orangutang fights "kickboxing" implies that these monkeys (I know they're not monkeys, because orangutangs and monkeys are different species, but you know what? I don't care because it's all the same from behind if you know what I'm saying.) actually have some semblance of training. I imagine that the monkey dojo where they learn this is a lot like the Cobra Kai dojo in the karate kid.

Sensei: Pain does not exist in this dojo, does it?

Orangutangs in unison: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH EEEEEEEE!

Sensei: Fear does not exist in this dojo, does it?

The orangutangs fondle one another's monkey cocks.

Then the blonde guy from Just One of the Guys pouts and feathers his hair a lot.

And....scene.

The promoters of the show say that the fights are coreographed and none of the monkeys get hurt, but I wouldn't step into the ring against an orangutang with boxing gloves on. That thing doesn't know the "not-in-the-face-or-in-the-balls" rule. I have no qualms about kicking a monkey in the balls, but I don't think he'd quite go down like a man would. I think kicking a monkey in the balls would somehow draw a lot more anger from that monkey than sending them down in a heap like what happens to a man or a small child who won't stop pointing at you and laughing at your head that's "as big as me, mommy." It's genetics, fucker.

So, stop the monkeys from fighting one another when they could be doing something much more productive like picking shit from each other's ass hair and shoving their erections through the chain-link fence at the zoo.

In other news, I got a call from some woman today. That's all. A woman called me. I actually came in my pants as soon as I heard that a woman was on the other end of the line. And it was free this time!

The good thing about having an uncommon or slightly difficult to pronounce last name is that you know right away when the person who's calling you is somebody who wants some money from you. So, she calls and mispronounces my last name, so I know she's going to want something, but I didn't know what fun would come from it. She proceeds to tell me that she works with a company called ARC. Whenever I hear an abbreviation like this, I always like to think of what it could stand for. Before she has a chance to tell me what it stands for, she explains that she's from a charity that's collecting for helping mentally handicapped children. Now, in the past few months, I've written a lot about retarded people (only because I don't know of many/any retarded animals or inanimate objects like a retarded sandwich or belt) so I'm convinced now that if I ever have children that they will be the most retarded children ever born. This, in a way, would make me happy because I always strive to be the best in everything I do and to have the MOST retarded children alive would make me feel like a winner. Anyway, after explaining that the organization has been around for 51 years, I realize that ARC has to stand for something like "Aiding Retarded Children" or "Aid for Retarded Children" or "Apples Rain Clock." The last one wouldn't make much sense so I'm guessing it's one of the first two.

The idea that this organization would have the word "Retarded" in their title blows my mind. Sure, maybe it's in keeping with the tradition of the organization, but it seems strange that they wouldn't rename themselves since everybody is so worried about being politically correct these days. It's kind of like if I decided to own myself a slave or two and when people asked me about it I just told them that I was "keeping it real" or "trying to bring back traditional American values." Trust me, I've tried this and it does not work. There are some things that people need to change and this organization's name is one of those things. Also, the organization (holy crap I'm using the word organization a lot) that is the most guilty of having a bad abbreviation is the NAACP. This is a group that's known for fighting for the rights of black folks throughout the country or world (I don't know where they work; I just know that their college basketball tournament is awesome) and they refer to themselves as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Really, Jesse Jackson? I guarantee you if I walked up to Jesse Jackson and said, "You colored people sure do have weird hair and are afraid of the water," he'd murder me into a million pieces. Only rednecks and aliens call black people colored people. I'm assuming aliens would call them colored people, I have no actual experience, but from what I've heard of aliens, they're very literal.

I saw The Village tonight, but I've been writing this thing for 45 minutes now and I don't want to get into it. I'll write about that and The Bourne Supremacy tomorrow.

Interesting thought of the day:
The reason chlamydia is called "the clap" is because an early strain of the virus caused the genitals to emit a noise very similar to a full orchestra performing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. This would often induce applause from passers-by.

Comment away. I want to hear from you bastards who haven't posted yet, too. I know you're out there. This site's growing like the cist on the tip of my urethra that's threatening to push my urine flow back inside myself; so let's hear from you guys. Or, if you've decided you've read enough and you'd like to hire me to do something for you (hopefully it's writing, but full release massage is negotiable) you can email me.

2 comments:

Mellody said...

"The orangutangs are accompanied by bikini-clad chimpanzees who wear bout number cards." Rofl! What a visual...WRU video?!

Flesh said...

Fucking with telemarketers/other random people that call you = fun