Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Evidence to Support Saving the Monkeys (and A Small Bit of Bird Business)

Okay, so, I found a link to this on basically, photos of people doing stupid things. I post the link here for two reasons.

First, if you click on the link for photo #2, you discover this act of stupidity takes place in Hammond, IN, a little town just southeast of Chicago, IL, and formerly the home of Phil Smidt's, one of the best restaurants I have ever patronized. Unfortunately, they closed last October after almost 100 years of fried lake perch and frog legs. Sad. Otherwise, I would have recommended a visit. We're running out of time for road trips (but, we'll watch for railroad crossings, I promise)!

Second, and most importantly, these stupid people doing stupid things obviously support the worldwide halt to consumption of monkeys. These people obviously eat monkeys, and they are obviously stupid. How do I know they are stupid? Well, look at what they are doing (especially the ones with the extension cord in the pool): they are stupid. How do I know they eat monkeys? Well, here is where my expert training as a logician serves me best.

I do not eat monkeys. I am not in the pictures of people doing stupid things. The people in the pictures are doing stupid things, UNLIKE ME. The people in the pictures are unlike me, ERGO (how ya like that?) they do not NOT eat monkeys. Thus, they eat monkeys AND thus, eating monkeys (either) makes you stupid or is stupid.

Stop eating monkeys, stupid people!

On an unrelated note, check out Shearwater's Jonathan Meiburg in Scientific American. Isn't this why people want to be rock 'n' roll stars? To get into august publications like Scientific American?


La Fashionista said...

I would like to see a Venn diagram depicting this expert logic. I suspect we'd see a lot of shading on the outside of the circle(s) and ultimately bound by nothing. Boundless logic, Reda!

If we follow your same logic, it might go something like this: You are not Jonathan Meiburg. Nor are you shown in any of those pictures with him. You are not-Jonathan-Meiburg. Jonathan Meiburg is described as not a fetishist. You are not-Meiburg. ERGO, you are a fetishist.

How you like me now? (My superior logic skills come from my undergraduate studies in maff.)

Fess up, fetish fellow. Whatchoogot?

Soon to come, I have links about aggressive monkeys. Ima eat dinner firstly. Try to manage the suspense in the meantime.


La Fashionista said...

Dinner was delicious. Now I'm back, surely to your delight.

I appreciate your patience while I consulted my source (who has informed me that the primates I had in mind weren't chimps as I'd commented yesterday). I now give you the links from my source, who seems to be almost perversely (one might even say fetishly if one were trying too hard to stay with the theme of this current post) fascinated by all this.








any monkey that tries to pull that isht wit me. But then again, I am a badass.

Though the monkeys probably look pretty cute doing it, eh?



ATR said...

What am I looking at here, BBC News or The Onion? This is some brilliant stuff, of course, filed, along with the parachute that left the space parachutist grounded, under "you can't make this shit up." What all can you do about it? Give a brother a turn at the watering hole and don't go working in the fields without a qualified monkey scarer.

As for fetishes, I like its crumbly goat-y goodness on a Greek salad. You know: "I'll have the falafel and a Greek salad with extra olives and fetishes."

Oh, and kudos for breaking out the old "C-i-l-l My Landlord" routine.

"See da watchdog. / Do he bite?"

La Fashionista said...

How about a Venn diagram for all the good stuff you can't get on youtube? Stupid SNL copyright infringement. I would love to see this clip again.

Alas, in that dreary void I make this humble offering.

IMAGES by Tyrone Green

Dark and lonely on a summer night
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord
The watchdog barkin’, do he bite?
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord
I slip in the window
I break his neck
Then his house I start to wreck.
Got no reason, what the heck.
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.
C-I-L-L my landlord.

I sometimes recite this during a particularly hellish commute.