PIMP MY CHIMP
By now many of you have heard the sad story of Henry the Chimp. Henry was found last week, in a garage in Crosby, Texas, living in deplorable conditions. Caged, and knee-deep in beer cans and cigarette butts, he could have passed for any number of my dearest high-school friends. It is difficult enough, watching human society descend into a wasteland of over indulgence, but it is especially heartwrenching to see our bad habits being picked up by chimps.
I have always been fascinated by Chimpanzees. Many of you are laughing and thinking disparaging thoughts about me after reading that. You're virtually vomiting one-liners and innuendo-laden vignettes. Go ahead. Chimps are smart and I've read quite a bit about them and watched most of the endless litany of documentaries about them. For a period in my life, in fact, I renovated an apartment to replicate almost perfectly the famous Rain Forest where the Silverbacks lived. I learned by watching and it wasn't long at all before I was getting the square peg in the square hole, and, my favorite, the round peg in the round hole.
More interesting to me were the little chimp villages and the hierarchy of chimp living. The dominant ones making their dominance known, the social chain of command falling naturally into place. Where on earth did they learn our foul smoking and drinking habits? Was it some chimp-studying nitwit that left his television on HBO inside his bamboo hut? Did Jane Goodall leave a Cosmopolitan on the coffee table? It is well known how quickly they learn to emulate us. C'mon, you've seen them in movies, on The Late Show. Always brought in for the cheap laugh. Pick your nose...and the chimp quickly responds in kind. Rub your chin in thoughtful pause and watch the chimp do the same. So it is no wonder that finally, we have a chain-smoking, binge-drinking monkey on our hands. Fortunately, Henry the Chimp was rescued from his crack-house hell and is being treated at the Sugarland Veterinary Specialists center.
Now, let's hope there aren't more. Our emergency rooms and rehabilitation facilities are already overwhelmed with our over-medicated adults. Those not in for a quick stomach-pump may be waiting in line to reorder their painkillers and anti-depressants. Also, we have tens of thousands of non-citizens to treat and taxpayers are finding it increasingly difficult, if not obnoxious, to pay for all this care for other people when they can barely afford health care for their own family. Not to mention the possible over-crowding of church basements across the country as Alcoholics Anonymous meetings have to make room for Alcoholic Primate Esteem, or A.P.E., a program intended to provide a discussion forum for drunk monkeys and their offspring, to help them rebuild their self-esteem. It's just the tip of the banana, so to speak.
As many of us know, drunkenness leads to failures in judgment and it could only be a matter of time before some hammered, hairy gorilla gets his monkey hands on the keys to the car. They're no different from us when it comes to partying. Eventually, every party needs more booze, butts and bongs. I, for one, am not anxious to share the road with a pride of pickled primates, knowing as I do, how they love to drive in slippery weather and go plowing into snowbanks at high rates of speed. Everything is funny to a charbroiled chimp. They are non-plussed by property damage.
So let's all enjoy a little snicker at Henry's expense. I expect that one day, we will look back and realize he was a prophet, trying to warn us of the social chaos that could erupt should all primates decide to "Party Like It's 1999". That may seem like an outdated reference to you, but Chimps don't know who "Prince" is, and they don't use calendars either. That's a good thing. I wouldn't want Henry to know that he has spent 23 years in a cage, at the hands of a member of the "smartest" species.
Karl From New Hampshire