Wild Animal

Yesterday I went to the Wild Animal Park. It is in San Diego, and it is world famous, so the signs say. If you are reading this in some other country, or planet, and you have not heard of the Wild Animal Park, well....you are pitiful I am afraid.

I would hope, if you have read any of the rest of my blog, you would realize, I am not one of those people who laments the way animals are treated in a facility like this one. Yesterday I watched 2 blonde girls wash an elephants feat and smack it in the ass. If they had a people exhibit, I would seriously consider signing up, if those two would come and wash my feet...or whatever. However, that is really off subject.

As I drove up, I noticed the whole park is surrounded by a really high fence. And good thing too, the whole thing really is packed with wild animals. The kind that if they could get a claw into you, they would not think twice about it. You kinda gotta admire wild animals for their no bullshit attitudes. If you pay a giant sum of money, you gain entrance to the park, and as I walked in, I noticed they have it set up to look all jungley in there. It made me think, now, I am on the inside of the fence...and so are all the animals. I am in here with them. They are in here with me. There are fences in here that keep them from sinking their claws into me. But what if there were no fences? What if we truly visited these animals in their natural habitat? Would I have paid all that money to get in? Kinda of a new experience to walk in to the wild animal park, where the animals roam free, wondering if you will make it back out. It wouldn't be an excited run to the gorilla cage, in fact, you might hope to not see any gorillas. You might hope not to see any animals at all.

While I am there, I get weary of seeing people reading the signs about the animals. I know there is 1 person in every 100,000 who reads the signs out of true interest and curiosity...and my uncle wasn't there yesterday, so that means everyone else was faking. The animals aren't like people everyone, you can drop the pretense. They are not like people you know, they don't care if you pretend to be interested in them or not. Most of them would rather just eat you. With the new version, the fenceless wild animal park, people would really pay attention to the signs. If the thing stalking them is a carnivore, you might look for a tree to climb...although I doubt most people I saw could climb a tree, even if they were getting chanced by a crazed, hungry wild animal.

After thinking about it, I would still go. But I would go alone, and I would go armed. For years wild animals have stuck it to people. Sneaking up on them and then eating them. I wouldn't start off shooting, I would walk in and start calling animals out. Those gorillas are huge, but I bet they have glass jaws. I want to fight one. They might be wildly strong, but I fight cheap. Quietus Oppugn (the western marshal art of which I am the founder) has a whole section on fighting wild animals. Panther's are are used to they're prey being terrified of them. The panther I take down will be shocked when I laugh at his growls, his stripped teeth and claws. Bring it panther. Knowing that the intimidation is a psychological upper hand, any panther would be so demoralized when I laugh at it intimidations. Then, I will ruin it. I have never punched a wild cat before, but I can hardly wait. If, by some miracle an animal gets the upper hand on me in a fight, I will shoot it. Ultimately, I will win every fight because my brain is bigger than a pebble, and I have opposable thumbs. Thumbs come in handy when it is time to reload, eh bears?

1969

Lots of stuff happened in 1969. Lots. Some would even say an entire years worth of stuff somehow got crammed into 1969. I, however, want to focus on one particular thing. The one thing everyone thinks of when they hear the year 1969. No, not you f-ing hippies who think current civilization would not exist without Woodstock. Seriously, no one cares. The thing everyone else thinks when they hear the year 1969. Again, not free love. They think of the moon. You all think of the moon. Come on. Think of the moon.

I wonder if there was a meeting at NASA prior to mission to the moon that covered etiquette upon landing? Some kind of "we are first, the world will be watching" kind of speech. Maybe I am jaded from having grown up in the world of spin. It wouldn't surprise me to find out that some suit on the ground decided who looked the best and had the best voice. And Neil would be first out the door and would memorize a couple of lines that a speech writer wrote. Maybe that is the way it would happen today. Actually, if we were headed to the moon for the first time prolly Dubbya himself would go and declare it part of the United States and set up some oil rigs to "see what's goin on under there." Either that or one of the Baldwins, Prolly Alec would go. I like to think, back in 1969, that from the time they lived through landing on the moon, it was a race. Who could get that giant suit strapped on the fastest. Shoving each other around, shutting off oxygen hoses on the other guys suit, hiding gloves... anything to ensure you would be the first out the door. Good thing I wasn't there. I would have hid everyone's boots the day before. I prolly would have been sleeping in most of my space suit in anticipation of being the first one outside. Who cares if it could kill me, its the freaking moon son, and I would be the first one on it. I would not have walked out slowly either, I would have jumped over the hand rail, or down the ladder, or whatever it took. I would have proclaimed "I just jumped down the ladder and I am on the fucking moon! I am the first guy here EVER! NASA? Houston? Are you listening to this? I am on the damn moon! Collins? Aldrin? Your boots are in the tank of the space toilet. History will remember my name, and 'where's my boots?' won't even be a footnote, bitches!"