Somewhere… in a heaven many of us (and perhaps all) will never see, Rod Serling is taking a long drag off of the cool, menthol cigarette he always smokes. (Because it doesn’t ever burn out, and it will never give him cancer… again).
And he’s got a wry smile on his puss… and he’s thinking, “See, I fucking told you.”
He’s referring to Taliban Monkeys .
A story so absurd, it makes me want to run screaming like Charlton Heston after his rocket crashed. So daft... that I’m tempted to buy a one-way ticket off this rock – or eat a bullet.
We’ve always known this “human civilization” thing gets crazy from time to time. New Home Depot’s open up next to well-established Lowe’s, country singers marry hockey players, and Winona Ryder gets called, "a gifted actress…"
But Taliban Monkeys?… that tears it. Check please!
Sure, we’ve all seen monkeys shanking people who refused them the standard banana payoff, and Lord knows kittens are being trained by the Department of Agriculture to drink human plasma and use combs, But Taliban Monkeys?
(Rod rises from his angelic barcolounger and chuckles, then walks off into the clouds)
What do you do when it all gets this goofy? When being drunk brings a more grounded state of mind... and the reminder of your own mortality seems like a stable, calming influence?
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