A Monkey Dressed Up as a Leprechuan With a Shillelagh Reflects on Current Events
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Situation: A conflict between Islamic militants and the Russian army has turned into an ongoing guerilla war in Chechnya.
The Monkey's Reaction: I'm going to bare my teeth at it. Now, I'm shaking my shillelagh at it. Is it still there? I'm hitting the ground with my stick.
Situation: Rebels in northern Thailand are threatening the stability of the basically US-friendly central government.
The Monkey's Reaction: There's no way I can do anything but bare my teeth, and hit the shillelagh at the ground. Then, I'm going to jump up and down and brandish my green bowler hat in one hand as I wave the stick around with the other.
Situation: An upswing in the popularity of Western food particularly red meat has brought obesity in Japan to unprecedented levels.
The Monkey's Reaction: No question, here. I'm crapping in my hands and flinging it at the television. Then I'm crapping in my hat, and throwing it at an intern.
Situation: George W. Bush's federal funding of "faith-based" initiatives has led to a host of unorthodox groups taking advantage of the new funds, raising questions about the seperation between church and state.
The Monkey's Reaction: Good one. I'm going to put down the stick and kind of stare off into the distance. Then I'm going to become increasingly agitated. I'll start shaking, a little. Then I'll hop up and down furiously while making a cascade of horrible screeching noises.
Situation: As Pope John Paul ages and approaches the end of his tenure, he packs the college of cardinals with a number of new members whose conservative viewpoints and Latin American / South American points of origin reflect his view of the future of the church.
The Monkey's Reaction: While we can't help but be disappointed by the idealogical inflexibilty this reflects, it's definitely another example of the sort of pragmatic, tactically shrewd leadership Pope John Paul has always displayed.
Also, I'm going to crap in my hands and fling it at the ALF poster in the breakroom, which I've mistaken for a male rival.
For more J. R. Norton, visit Flakmag