These are some recent examples of my inimitable lines of thinking:
I recommend doing it only in pristine places, though, like in the middle of a field of high, flowing grasses, where no dogs or other creatures are likely to have peed or poo’d.
Certainly not anywhere near the base of a tree that you’ve just hugged.
(Say this to yourself like Howard Cosell:) “He Could Go…All…The…Way”: I am astounded at how there have never been any quarterbacks in the NFL with colostomy bags. It’s ironic, but it seems to me, these guys would be the least likely to get sacked. And…it would be perfect for the Browns; they’d have a true team mascot. But, I suppose it could also bring new meaning to the phrase “leave it all on the field”.
Monkeys Are More Into Doing Than Seeing: I recently heard a fascinating study described on NPR about Rhesus monkeys, where scientists tested the animals to see if they were racists.
Apparently these monkeys grow up in clans, and the females stay in the clan for life. But when the males come of reproductive age, they move on to another clan. This is the part I find so fascinating, because it seems these animals instinctively don’t want to sh!t where they eat. It’s refreshing to see they don’t want to f!ck their sisters, cousins and mothers. And aunts. And grandmothers.
(This sort of ties into the dirty little secret we’ve all extracted from those National Geographic shows that no one watches any more. I was under the impression that certain species of monkeys are wild thangs…….they spend most of their time, er, procreating, or at least, just going through the motions. With every other member of their clan. It’s just their way of communicating. That way, and throwing feces.
It’s nice to think maybe some species of monkeys do all this wonderful stuff with a bunch of non-relatives.)
Anyway, the scientists tested the Rhesus monkeys for “racism” by showing pictures to them of other monkeys, and they always stared longer (i.e., showed “racist tendencies”) when it was a monkey from another clan. Even if it was a male monkey that had grown up in that clan, but recently had moved on.
I enjoy picturing some scientist in the jungle, calling a monkey over, surreptitiously slipping him a few bananas, showing him a picture, and saying, “Hey Bud, you recognize this guy?”
Honey, I Schvitzed The Bed: Know what’s fun? Nightsweats. You wake up in the middle of the night, soaked, and stumble into the bathroom to change. For some unknown reason, you turn on the light and look at yourself in the mirror, and it’s like some gruesome, menopausal wet t-shirt contest. And you are horrified all around, not to mention physically uncomfortable. Just then your husband shuffles into the bathroom, and does a rare double take. He likes it.
Must remind him of spring break.