Saturday, January 01, 2011

My Father and the Chimp

My father, in the course of a not-very-corrupt  life, spent a short time as an announcer for a traveling chimp show.  No kidding: it was kind of a lark, but still a real job.  It yielded, inter alia, this story from his employer, the chimp keeper: one day a chimp got mad at him and bit his finger off and then, in horror and remorse, tried to  to push it back on again.

For absolutely no reason, I find myself mulling this New Year's about issues of hard-wired bloody-mindedness, of impulsive violence, of remorse.

Season's Greetings to all of you as you observe the beginning of the new year or other relevant time unit, if any.  And watch your fingers.

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