Some people look in the mirror and see apes.
Now, I used to find that hard to believe. It was incomprehensible, tomfoolery, puffery, something that I would never understand. A vapid illusion, I reasoned, and I could I pass on in respectful silence, much as I would a street performer singing out of key. So what if he doesn’t know. He is the one who will go without food, leaving more for me.
But then one day, I saw it. I had just finished my daily ritual of grooming - with its mass-shaving, clippage, de-limbing, defoliation, excision, cauterization, unction and penance. When I looked up into the mirror I saw a simian. A primate. The ape-man. Mr. Piltdown, I presume. A man with long arms, protruding jaw, sloped forehead, and crestal ridge. Who was this? Was it a bending mirror? What had I become? It reminded me of the headline in Weekly World News© announcing that Shaved Apes Were Being Sold As Human Babies. Could it be? Would I be kidnapped? Sold as a slave? I saw myself locked in some warehouse along a deepwater dock, rays of the setting sun shining through the gaps in the corrugated steel siding, illuminating dust in the air, casting ribbons of light on my bony figure that sat chained to a desk and slumped over a sewing machine. I began to sweat. But, the notion was short-lived; as soon as the creature in the mirror started to speak, it became man. We carried on a lively, rather reassuring conversation for five minutes and he left as soon as I had talked myself out. Good thing, I had to get to work and so did he.
On the way I was thinking about the effort to teach apes sign language. Stories circulate that the apes are learning well. Some can sign many words. Some even make sentences. So they say. Sure, we all sit on the edge of our seats, breathless, waiting for the uncharted wisdom, radiant truth, profound musing and effulgent insight to slip from their weathered grey lips and redirect our sodden souls. Hark, The Ape Speaks!
But then, I wondered, maybe we don’t know the whole story. You know how it goes: maybe these apes are teaching us how to speak. We laugh when the chimps put on their show, riding tricycles, dressed up as cowboys, mugging for the cameras, but when they go offstage, out of the site of Homo sapiens, they sit down over a glass of wine and discuss theoretical physics, speaking in an ancient tongue they picked up while mimicking an archaeologist they saw on public television the night before. They had a good laugh at the way the fellow tripped over his words, rolled his eyes and moved his mouth.
Nah.
So I swung into our village. A breezy spring day, apple blossoms scattered in the sky, dust devils twisted in the fields, high cumulus moved in from the west. Promise was in the air. As I walked in front of the grocery store I saw two men arguing about a parking space. I watched them for a while. The larger man got his way; he swung his arms a lot and then the smaller man backed away, all the while displaying this big toothy smile. I passed by the beauty salon next door and the billows of perfume rolling out the door made my head turn, and inside I saw a woman picking through another woman’s hair. Other women were lined up, chatting, waiting their turn. I rounded the corner and looked down the alley. I could see several young men relieving themselves against the walls. Nobody would come near. Up ahead, a man walked out of a bar with another man’s wife. She was from a neighboring town. I think he had her by the hair. On the curbside, two women were fighting over a baby carriage. They were screaming with such ferocity that it was impossible to make out what they were saying. One shoved the carriage into the street, just missing an oncoming car. Down the road, by the school, I could see a crowd of adults at the soccer field. Arms were in the air. Children were being gathered up. It looked like a brawl and it was headed my way. Time to go.
I ducked into the café and sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. The news was on. It showed footage of something really big blowing up somewhere; I almost dropped my cup. Then there was a scene of many agitated people at some conference shouting at each other in several different languages simultaneously. Then lots of important people started showing up on the screen and explaining what was going on and then they started shouting at each other and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then I saw crowds of angry men clubbing another crowd of angry men who were clubbing another crowd of angry men who were, I think, clubbing another crowd of angry men. I was looking for who started it all but it ended up that the last group was clubbing the first group. I turned it off when I saw thousands of peace marchers set fire to a nursing home.
I called the waitress to me and asked for a newspaper. She brought one over and I paid my bill. I spread the paper on the counter and looked at the headlines.
“Personal Thermonuclear Device Seen As Key to Safe Neighborhoods”
“Hellfire Doctrine Provides Model for Effective Torture Sessions”
“Improving Your Child’s Self-confidence with Anabolic Steroids”
”Science Engineers Completely Disposable Child”
“Study Shows Repeated Political Fallacies Evolve into Truth over Time”
What? What is this? What next, Shaved Apes? The man next to me reached for my paper. I sputtered, lost for words. I jabbed the fork into his hand. He rolled his lips back and gave a big toothy grin.
Now, I used to find that hard to believe. It was incomprehensible, tomfoolery, puffery, something that I would never understand. A vapid illusion, I reasoned, and I could I pass on in respectful silence, much as I would a street performer singing out of key. So what if he doesn’t know. He is the one who will go without food, leaving more for me.
But then one day, I saw it. I had just finished my daily ritual of grooming - with its mass-shaving, clippage, de-limbing, defoliation, excision, cauterization, unction and penance. When I looked up into the mirror I saw a simian. A primate. The ape-man. Mr. Piltdown, I presume. A man with long arms, protruding jaw, sloped forehead, and crestal ridge. Who was this? Was it a bending mirror? What had I become? It reminded me of the headline in Weekly World News© announcing that Shaved Apes Were Being Sold As Human Babies. Could it be? Would I be kidnapped? Sold as a slave? I saw myself locked in some warehouse along a deepwater dock, rays of the setting sun shining through the gaps in the corrugated steel siding, illuminating dust in the air, casting ribbons of light on my bony figure that sat chained to a desk and slumped over a sewing machine. I began to sweat. But, the notion was short-lived; as soon as the creature in the mirror started to speak, it became man. We carried on a lively, rather reassuring conversation for five minutes and he left as soon as I had talked myself out. Good thing, I had to get to work and so did he.
On the way I was thinking about the effort to teach apes sign language. Stories circulate that the apes are learning well. Some can sign many words. Some even make sentences. So they say. Sure, we all sit on the edge of our seats, breathless, waiting for the uncharted wisdom, radiant truth, profound musing and effulgent insight to slip from their weathered grey lips and redirect our sodden souls. Hark, The Ape Speaks!
But then, I wondered, maybe we don’t know the whole story. You know how it goes: maybe these apes are teaching us how to speak. We laugh when the chimps put on their show, riding tricycles, dressed up as cowboys, mugging for the cameras, but when they go offstage, out of the site of Homo sapiens, they sit down over a glass of wine and discuss theoretical physics, speaking in an ancient tongue they picked up while mimicking an archaeologist they saw on public television the night before. They had a good laugh at the way the fellow tripped over his words, rolled his eyes and moved his mouth.
Nah.
So I swung into our village. A breezy spring day, apple blossoms scattered in the sky, dust devils twisted in the fields, high cumulus moved in from the west. Promise was in the air. As I walked in front of the grocery store I saw two men arguing about a parking space. I watched them for a while. The larger man got his way; he swung his arms a lot and then the smaller man backed away, all the while displaying this big toothy smile. I passed by the beauty salon next door and the billows of perfume rolling out the door made my head turn, and inside I saw a woman picking through another woman’s hair. Other women were lined up, chatting, waiting their turn. I rounded the corner and looked down the alley. I could see several young men relieving themselves against the walls. Nobody would come near. Up ahead, a man walked out of a bar with another man’s wife. She was from a neighboring town. I think he had her by the hair. On the curbside, two women were fighting over a baby carriage. They were screaming with such ferocity that it was impossible to make out what they were saying. One shoved the carriage into the street, just missing an oncoming car. Down the road, by the school, I could see a crowd of adults at the soccer field. Arms were in the air. Children were being gathered up. It looked like a brawl and it was headed my way. Time to go.
I ducked into the café and sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. The news was on. It showed footage of something really big blowing up somewhere; I almost dropped my cup. Then there was a scene of many agitated people at some conference shouting at each other in several different languages simultaneously. Then lots of important people started showing up on the screen and explaining what was going on and then they started shouting at each other and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then I saw crowds of angry men clubbing another crowd of angry men who were clubbing another crowd of angry men who were, I think, clubbing another crowd of angry men. I was looking for who started it all but it ended up that the last group was clubbing the first group. I turned it off when I saw thousands of peace marchers set fire to a nursing home.
I called the waitress to me and asked for a newspaper. She brought one over and I paid my bill. I spread the paper on the counter and looked at the headlines.
“Personal Thermonuclear Device Seen As Key to Safe Neighborhoods”
“Hellfire Doctrine Provides Model for Effective Torture Sessions”
“Improving Your Child’s Self-confidence with Anabolic Steroids”
”Science Engineers Completely Disposable Child”
“Study Shows Repeated Political Fallacies Evolve into Truth over Time”
What? What is this? What next, Shaved Apes? The man next to me reached for my paper. I sputtered, lost for words. I jabbed the fork into his hand. He rolled his lips back and gave a big toothy grin.
2 comments:
Man! I had fun reading your post. Though won't deny your post also subtly evoked strange thoughts in my mind. "Shaved apes" that sounds a lil scary, equating us to apes...aren't we supposed to be by far the most advanced amongst all the species around? Anyways, do drop by my blog coz am sure you'd love reading it.
I love this:
“Study Shows Repeated Political Fallacies Evolve into Truth over Time”
So true.
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