Wednesday, September 21, 2016
King Kong: a reassessment
Long-standing readers of this blog will be aware of my disdain for King Kong. I have a number of issues with that overgrown ape. First, that he stomped around his native jungle making a hullabaloo instead of foraging and fornicating like a proper gorilla. Second, that on escaping from captivity in New York City, he created havoc and climbed a skyscraper instead of making a beeline for the nearest forest. But third, and worst of all, that he fell head-over-heels in love with a human female, needlessly endangering himself to keep her in his hairy clutches. I hope I am stating the obvious in pointing out that real gorillas do not behave in this way. And those that did would flee to a barren rock to die of shame.
One of our human guests at the annual simian convention was a young American chap who told me he had recently graduated from the New York Film Academy. In spite of wearing a baseball cap back-to-front, he seemed quite knowledgeable for an American, so I invited him to parley with me on the King Kong question.
“You’ve got it all wrong, GB,” he said after listening patiently to my critique. “King Kong wasn’t in love with Ann Darrow. She was just a plaything who amused him by scampering about like a mouse and hollering at him whenever he tripped her up. Sure, he loved her, but in the same way that Long John Silver loved the parrot on his shoulder. It wasn’t a romantic thing.”
“That’s an interesting theory,” I mused. “I’d love to believe it, but answer me this: why did he risk his life to protect her?”
“People get very attached to their pets,” he replied. “Humans have often risked their lives to save their dogs. Remember Dorothy and Toto in The Wizard of Oz? Couldn’t a gorilla develop the same feelings for a pet woman?”
After considering the matter, I was forced to concede the point.
“Thank you for sharing your perspectives, young Sir,” I said. “You have marshalled your arguments well and given me food for thought.”
Plausible though his theory may be, it does not significantly elevate my opinion of King Kong. His infatuation might have resembled what humans feel for a kitten, but it was certainly a foolish one in the circumstances. Love-struck he may not have been, but sentimental ninny he certainly was.
If a nubile woman turned up on my doorstep in a helpless state, I would extend her every courtesy, but treat her in a formally correct way. The horseplay that occurred between Mr Kong and Miss Darrow would be out of the question until our relationship had progressed to a higher level. I would not endanger my life for her until we were bosom buddies, at the very least.
To the Ann Darrows of the world, I say this: Gorilla Bananas won’t bathe you under a waterfall until you’ve earned his affection. It might take a good fortnight to butter me up sufficiently.
Labels: Ann Darrow, King Kong, pets, revisionism
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Pet care
Did Justin Bieber abandon his monkey? Everyone seems to think so, but the facts look inconclusive to me. The monkey was taken away from him when he arrived in Germany because its papers weren’t in order. You could argue that Bieber should have put his foot down and threatened to leave the country, but the German authorities are responsible for instigating the estrangement. You can’t blame Bieber for not accompanying his monkey to its quarantine cell and living off nuts and berries. A growing boy needs milk and cookies to keep his chest fluff growing.
It was foolish of the Germans to act so high and mighty. They’re unpopular enough in Europe for squeezing the assets of the Greeks and Cypriots. At the very least, they should have found a good foster home for the monkey instead putting it in a cage. I would have given the creature to Lilo Wanders, the celebrity transsexual, whose lavish home is equipped with the latest restraining devices for monkeys and other stray beasts. I doubt such measures would have been necessary, though. The most agitated monkey would be soothed by resting its head on Miss Wanders' hormonally enhanced bosom.
One has to wonder whether things will ever be the same between Bieber and his simian pet. The monkey has no knowledge of German quarantine laws and probably thinks it was sent to boarding school. It may well be happy to return to Bieber, but it’s bound to feel resentment when it reflects on its ordeal. How will it avoid comparing Bieber with Michael Jackson, who treated Bubbles the chimp as an inseparable companion and bedmate until death did them part? Such reflections might incite it to take revenge by secretly scouring its anus with Bieber’s toothbrush. Monkeys have a gift for sly and sneaky sabotage.
In truth, it’s rarely a good idea for a human to have a pet monkey. The species are too similar to avoid unrealistic expectations. Even a confirmed pet lover like Paris Hilton couldn’t make it work. As she explained to her fans:
“My monkey was really cute but used to screech and go crazy whenever he saw me naked. I think he wanted to touch my boobs or something but was too confused to ask. I had to lock him in the closet whenever I wanted to watch TV in the nude. So I put him up for adoption and found him a new home in a zoo.”
The ironic thing is that Justin himself would make a much-loved pet – he seems to inspire the same feelings as a rabbit or a faun. Teenage girls can be very sentimental about shy delicate creatures that like to be stroked. Perhaps Paris Hilton should adopt him as her human pet and teach him how to handle all the negative publicity he’s been getting. One assumes Bieber is man enough to see her naked without freaking out like a monkey. He can always close his eyes if he gets too flustered.
Labels: Justin Bieber, Lilo Wanders, Michael Jackson, monkeys, Paris Hilton, pets
Monday, January 21, 2008
Dog Day Afternoon
The couple were showering together when he called the hound to join them, in spite of the woman’s clear warning that this would be viewed as an unfriendly act (not to say casus belli). Heaven knows what possessed the fellow. Perhaps he thought she would change her mind on seeing the animal’s eager face and long wet tongue. She didn’t, and the man ended up in hospital with a dislocated shoulder for his matchmaking efforts.
This sorry incident shows what can go wrong when a man’s best friend really is his dog. He takes the pooch bowling and buys it a beer, and before anyone can call a shrink he’s invited it to copulate with his girlfriend, quite literally treating the woman like a bitch. Even if she had acquiesced, I doubt the mutt would have enjoyed it much. It may well have gone through the motions to please its master, but a woman’s body probably seems like a rubber dinghy to a dog – too smooth to get a good grip of and too easy to puncture in the wrong place. The absence of a bitch-in-heat smell wouldn’t have helped either. You can’t expect a hound to be a demon in the sack under those conditions, no matter how horny it is.
Now I’m not opposed, in principle, to humans having pets. It’s all a question of choosing the right animal and having the right sort of relationship with it. An American woman once asked me if gorillas made good pets. “Not for humans they don’t” was my reply. It is always a mistake to share your home with an animal stronger than yourself, as it inevitably leads to confusion about who is the master and who is the pet. Even very young gorillas don’t know their own strength where humans are concerned. I remember a judo black belt saying he’d like to wrestle with an infant female in my band who was making eyes at him.
“Put on a jockstrap first,” I advised. “She doesn’t know what testicles are, and if she thinks yours are gooseberries you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
He decided, on reflection, to settle for a handshake.
The best sort of human-pet partnership is exemplified by the 18th century pirate and his parrot. The bird is not held captive and can fly away whenever it wants. It only opts to stay perched on Blackbeard’s shoulder in return for high-quality grub from the cook’s table and a prime view of the action. It can also speak its mind freely and contribute its two cents at crew meetings. Incidentally, it is a myth that a parrot will only parrot the views of its owner. These shrewd little creatures always mimic the phrase that will have the most impact.
My friend Smacker Ramrod, the circus vet, once kept a parrot in his trailer. After many weeks of trying to get it to say things like “Pretty Polly”, the bird stayed resolutely mute. Then, quite unexpectedly, it spoke its first words when Smacker was with a woman who’d agreed to spend the night with him. Just as they were starting to undress, the parrot got their attention by clicking its tongue.
“I love your boobs!” it squawked.
Smacker’s delight at hearing the bird talk was tempered by the fact that it had stolen a favourite line he was about to deliver himself. The girl laughed and said “Thanks”. She then reflected on what she had heard and stopped undressing.
“Hang on a minute!” she exclaimed, giving Smacker the evil eye.
Labels: dog in shower, gooseberries, parrots, pets
