monkey. That's the term they're using for the lackey intern
who has to use the search engine to find whatever the boss wants.
Every newsroom and research shop has one.
to share with all of you something that this Google monkey found:
there's pretty much zero literature available on the internet that
looks reality square in the face and fucking says it: That "we
of thousands of pages get into things that indicate that we are
what we are; stuff about our feces, life spans, wombs, saliva, genetics,
etc. But just about nothing on the connection between those things
and our existence.
matters because it's pretty solid proof that we're in virgin territory
with this monkey stuff. Consider how many Reagan biographies there
are. I've heard there's as many as 246 published books and I know
there are thousands and thousands of private LiveJournal.com Reagan
altars. If the public wants to understand Reagan, there's plenty
in the offing from a variety of lovers and haters alike.
what about the monkeys? Slim pickings. Yet the available material
is a testament to how indispensable music & songs, philosophy
& poetry are for coming to terms with the greatest truth on
oddly enough, a song by the oh-so-‘90s British band Travis, aptly
titled: "We Are Monkeys."
think they're brainy but they haven't a clue
I think I'm clever cos I'm singing this to you
are wrong, we are wrong
are all so, so wrong
are false, we're untrue
should be in the zoo with our uncles
if you don't believe
and climb up a tree and you'll love it
a fool to believe anymore
believe you're a monkey
the clever monkeys telling us what to do
us to stay in line and join the monkey queue
that they're special cos they went to private zoo
day soon they're gonna end up in a monkey stew"
good showing from one of the most insipid and uninsightful bands
of the past 20 years. My only quibble is that after rigorous testing
from my own personal experience, the "clever monkeys"
are totally unaware of the fact that they are "telling us what
to do." Exactly as unaware as the monkeys who carry out their
orders -- I don't separate the clever and the servile monkeys anymore;
they're in the same stew.
Travis released the song on a b-side, burying it in their second
pressing of their 1999 single, "Turn," I think I have
some ideas: They were sort of afraid of saying it out loud -- they
aren't social revolutionaries; they're fucking Travis. Or maybe
only the songwriter got it, and wanted the rest of band to play
it as a kind of learning aid, but then clammed up after they rehearsed
it 50 times and no one quite caught on. Or it was just a piece of
totally unconscious songwriting.
in the Google results, bow down to Andre Padilla's (age 10 of Seattle
‘s Rainier View Elementary SCORES program) poetic contribution to
the tiny English monkey opus:
we are, we think
climb forever and
we are climbing
the top. I wonder
we can walk up.
we go — come on
time we will not
a break. If we make
to the top, it will
what I pulled from Padilla's cryptic, brilliant verse: We are monkeys.
If we keep going in the direction we're going, and stop taking lunch
breaks and weekends off, we'll come to a point where we can't go
any further. And then – It gets a little blurry here – this final
place will be a pleasant twilight where we can be as unconscious
as any other bunch of monkeys out there and take naps, or we're
all gonna die. I'm not sure. But it looks like Padilla isn't either,
and the final flick of his pen is a fine act of artistry for a 10-year-old
next quote is from a blog entry by MaxFaust: on a BDSM blog forum
site: "I think we are monkeys that became insane." Max
goes into it a little, but not as well as Callum Keynes of the "Chimpage"
site. Here's a bit from Case Study #3: Circuses in Callum's
seminal paper, "Why Humans Are Insane Monkeys":
thought of monkeys performing in front of hundreds of other monkeys
is a disturbing thought as it is. However, what if a single monkey
wearing a top hat and holding a chair is stood in the centre of
the ring, surrounded by angry lions? The audience of monkeys are
having a whale of a time. Meanwhile, a small car drives into the
ring and explodes. Four monkeys wearing makeup, wigs and large
pants fall out of it, and begin throwing custard pies at each
other. A monkey rides past on an elephant. Finally, at the climax
of the show a monkey is fired from a cannon. Is this sane? No,
it's not actually and is quite mad. Although this sounds far-fetched,
humans actually do this professionally. Why? No one knows. Absolutely
But that's what's going on. Callum is ahead of his time. And thanks
to him in part, I've accepted that we're not just monkeys; we're
also somewhat mad – forced to become crazy soon after we are born,
mostly by our mothers.
only a few things left from my search results, including a rather
pedantic dispute between two Marxists about monkeys, but you peel
that banana in your own time. I don't do Marx.