They used have cool chimps for sale in the back of magazines (back when people read magazines). The print media hasn’t been outsourced, but I’m sure the Wall Street Journal finds humor advertising their own brand’s stock value on paper to investors. Pricks.
Anyway, I’m sure you remember the trend of people getting chimps and splitting their cigarette pack with them but demonstrating excellent parenting skills otherwise. I guess it’s not a chore if you get to tell cashier the diapers are for your monkey when you’re a kid. I suppose we accumulated as many as we have in N. America through the Trans Atlantic Alliance which I imagine was set up with NATO after WW2… can’t remember 🙂 As crazy as it seems Harambe’s species was almost extinct but the Cincinnati Zoo boosted the pop. and I think they’re going to make it. Survival of species is the strongest emotion we exert, so there was a silver lining to the story for prying eyes like mine. a thin silver line, but there nonetheless. Oh… p.s. Did the “dudes” in the cartload have a designated driver, or an Uber or something?
Last Saturday, I had the opportunity as an anthropologist to observe a late afternoon bachelor’s party at Folly Beach’s little corner of the Caribbean, Chico Feo.
By the way, bachelor parties for centuries have been traditional components of mating and marriage rituals in the West. Whether you’re bidding “farewell to bachelorhood” in Munich at a Junggesellenabschied or in Arles marking the “burial of the life of a boy” at an enterrement de vie de jeune fill, you can be assured of one commonality: the Junges and garçons are gonna get shit-faced just like the lads in Liverpool and the dudes of Malibu.
Indeed, even though it was merely four in the afternoon at Chico Feo, a few of the entourage exhibited telltale signs of intoxication — sleepy, glazed eyes; mouths that hung open; wobbly legs. The first reveler in this condition I encountered kept bumping into the vacant bar stool…
View original post 553 more words