Conservative Primates

Much of the time, I look at a quote like this, and I have something useful to say about religion, or tolerance or homosexual rights...

The head of the Anglican Church and Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams has said that he fears that the Church may split over the row sparked by the appointment of openly gay US bishop, Gene Robinson, in 2003.

"We have a difficult meeting ahead of us with many challenges and many decisions to make," Dr Williams told reporters as he arrived in Dar es Salaam on Wednesday.

Conservative primates are angered that the recently-installed head of the American Episcopal Church, Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, who has publicly backed Mr Robinson, is attending the meeting.

Today, though... Today I just want to make a joke about "Conservative Primates." (This is what happens when I don't consume anything but coffee until 1pm.)

The Fall of the Old World
[Monkeys]

Wendel Archibald IV slid out from under the satin sheets of his pillow-top king sized bed, slipping on a pair of doe-leather penny loafers and tightening the belt of his hand tailored robe. He smiled out the giant window of his master bedroom, overlooking the luxurious sprawl of Primate City.

What did I ever do to deserve this, he wondered to himself, watching the doves play in the early morning mist. Oh, that's right, he concluded, chuckling as he lit a cigar. He looked to the east, down at the massive factory his father had built, taking in bananas and sugar, chemicals by the truckload and pumping out black smoke, toxic river waste and Langur Brand Banana Chips. Not to mention it's other exports: carpal tunnel syndrome, broken families and wafer-thin paycheques. I was born! Wendel laughed, long and loud, his hearty chuckle echoing down the many corridors of his luxurious estate.

It was good to be a chimp.

***

Later, the bright blue sky slashed with thin white clouds, Wendel sat down with one of his top analysts, Barry Singleton, a cold-hearted baboon from the south side of the city. His head for numbers and his ruthless nature had brought him to the top of his graduating class and made him very wealthy through shrewd investment. Wendel appreciated his advice and didn't even worry about the fact that he was a baboon. Some people were bound to rise above their station, even if they'd never be the equals of Wendel and his family.

"Your factory is being eyed by an environmental group for its waste drainage into the Macaque river." Barry drank water and munched on an energy bar, even surrounded by the gorgeous dessert trays and the intoxicating aroma of coffees, teas and baking bread here at the café du singerie. There's just no accounting for the tastes of nouveau riche.

"What do you suggest, Barry?"

"Donald is working with Senator O'Reilley, thinks he can make some kind of delaying tactic, but you're best off actually doing something about the mess this time. You can't keep that pack of dogs off forever."

Wendel looked down at his quiche, suddenly feeling ill. "That kind of talk isn't what I like to hear during my repast."

Barry swallowed the last bit of his ugly brown granola and honey concoction, then slowly consumed an entire glass of Banyan Springs mineral water. Wendel fumed as he waited. "It's not like you can blame me. The New World party is getting the public on their side about environmental damage. Our side's been running interference for longer than either of us have been alive, but they're starting to see the soft spots in our peel, if you know what I mean."

Wendel ground his teeth together. He was about two seconds from going apeshit, but remembered his court-mandated anger management cases--god damned cops and there quotas weren't bad enough, he'd had to fall into the courtroom of some activist, commie judge from a college town--and held it in.

"Just get me results. The Archibald family name is synonymous with Primate City. We built this city and I will not see that legacy fall apart at the hands of some fleapicking termite-stickers."

Barry narrowed his gaze, looking down his snout through half-moon glasses. He straightened his tie and hesitated. For just a second, Wendel reveled in the sight of it.

Barry stood, glaring now, as if having reached a decision. "You need to think about your priorites. The Old World party is going nowhere, and even your allies are looking elsewhere for leaders. Stop flinging shit like this is fucking jungle and start learning what's what."

Wendel sat speechless and stunned as the baboon took a deep breath and walked toward the street. He swiveled in his chair, watching his analyst go, aghast. Barry stopped there, hands in his pockets and called out, "Oh, and you can pick up the check. That's all a rich, stodgy chimp like you is good for these days, anyway."



To be continued...
Only, probably not.



oh, and, yeah, I know that chimps aren't old world monkeys.
Shut up.