This old dead tree just ain’t what it used to be so I’ve moved.
Please visit the new site: theowlsmonocle.com for much, much more continuing wisdom.
It seems that wearing luxurious furs and skins is well and truly taboo now. Gone are the days when a young rapper with an unpronounceable name can sign his first record deal and then get shot to death in a parking lot wearing a genuine chinchilla coat without incurring the scorn of the nation. Is this what our forefathers would have wanted? Is this the world Benjamin Franklin died fighting the Canadians to protect?
Species such as arctic fox, mink, clown fish, python, Scandinavians, and polar bear have all been granted an amnesty of sorts in this age of bleeding-heart-socialist-obamacare. People still want to wear warm, fuzzy, fluffy fur though. They just don’t want to endure the judgmental stares, hurled red paint, and an aging Pamela Anderson chirping at them on the Interwebs.
So what have they turned to? Faux fur. That’s right, the Eastern Lowland Faux Fur. A nondescript rodent resembling a muskrat that is now feeding the world's insatiable lust for pelts. Just go to any department store. The racks are lined with coats trimmed, lined, accented, and completely made from the faux fur. One WWF study discovered:
“For their nauseating Holiday commercials alone, Old Navy is responsible for the deaths of over 1 million faux furs.”
Every year hundreds of millions of live faux furs are shipped from North American ports like Halifax and New York to China. Once there, China’s “efficient killing machine” child workforce descends on container load after container load dispatching the witless animals with the kind of savagery and glee only a child can show.
Despite this one heart warming aspect of the faux fur trade though, it is a vile thing with tragically almost no awareness in global society. I challenge you to make a difference.
Ask that 10 year old girl wearing the pink faux fur fringed Hanna Montana coat if she knows she’s a fucking murder! When her mother comes over panicking about a strange man making her daughter cry at the bus stop, Angrily ask her too. Please.
The poor little faux fur will thank you. Society will too… someday.
Manatees are known by many names. Sea Cows, water Zeppelins, “poor man’s walrus”, boat motor stoppers, and “very unsexy mermaids”, are some common monickers. Manatees are this to be sure though: Fail Whales. They are fail whales in that they simply fail at being a whales. It’s true. They are very poor at being whales, but this is not all that is strange about the manatee.
From its incestuous breeding preferences to its bizarre egg-laying rituals, the manatee confounds.
From its terrible hearing to its even worse eyesight, it frustrates.
From the way the female eats the male after copulation to the way it lures astray mariners to their murky graves with seductive songs, the manatee astounds.
Why do they look like walruses, but without any of the things that make walruses better than them?
Why don’t they use their gills?
Why do they only eat seagulls?
Why the hell are they trying to break all of the outboard motors of hard working Floridians? Perplexing, to say the least.
There is just so much we do not know about the manatee, least of all, why such a strange amalgam of creatures even exists.
This weekend is Thanksgiving long weekend in Canada. For our American readers who might wonder what makes it different from your Thanksgiving, picture something between July Fourth and Halloween being celebrated on Columbus Day.
Sine winter blankets the Great White North for 16 months of the Canadian year, the harvest occurs only every second year, making it a somewhat significant occassion.
It is a great feast where, traditionally, a Canada Goose is poached in strong, generic tasting beer for 12 hours and then smothered in lots and lots of delicious gravy and cheese curds. Of course, the meal is followed by festive drunken hockey fighting.
Happy Thanksgiving Canada!
Has God lost what made him “The Steve Jobs of Heaven”? His designs are so iterative lately. Almost evolutionary, even. Where’s the maverick who gave us Tyrannosaurus Rex?
Scientists from around the world add yet another chapter to the endless debate at the 234th annual Pegasus vs. Unicorn Symposium in Davos, Switzerland this week.
While I admire the commitment to scientific rigor, one cannot help but cringe at the $100 million event in these tough economic times. Not the least because the last unicorn was ground up for fertilizer more than 60 years ago, and there has not been a credible Pegasus sighting since the attack on 10 Downing Street in 1910.
Further calling into question the value of this meeting, and tarnishing the majesty of these magical beasts, is the existence of this:
The word okapi means literally, “unfortunate offspring” in Congolese pygmy dialect. These idiots stumbling around Central Africa are, believe it or not, actually the progeny of Unicorns and Pegasus.
Unlikely though it may seem, The beautiful union of the two most exquisite beings to survive the crash of Noah’s Ark did not bring to earth an animal so divine it must truly be wrought from Heaven itself. No, it is this bloody bastard. Threatened as it may be, it is still far too common for for my taste. If you see one at a zoo, throw a rock at it.
…it’s just their soul escaping.
Ah! A fantastic question, and one that has been debated by both fools and idiots alike.
It is clearly written in the New Testament's Book of Science, chapter 4, verse 12:
…and Elijah bore Jesus in his chariot of fire through the night sky… And they heard him exclaim ‘ere he flew out of sight, “To all beasts I say this: You shall evolve and prosper! All but you vile walrus, for you are base and abhorrent in mine eyes.”
The common Western Minotaur. Once as much a part of catacombs and fighting pits as axes and horrific disembowelments, they are now all but extinct. Sadly, most people alive today have grown up without knowing a single person who has been gored, ravaged, and eventually devoured by a minotaur.
While not as docile as their genetic cousins, cows, minotaurs are also not as reasonable as their other relative, man. Though one might not think that this mixture of bull-like strength, seething rage, and bull-like intelligence could be problematic, it actually proved to be.
Its propensity for staggering violence and copulation with queens doomed the minotaur’s hopes of ever integrating into human society… or bovine society for that matter. Forced to retreat to dark, terrifying places to eek out their existence, minotaurs became increasingly alienated and their populations began to dwindle.
At the turn of the last century, labyrinth popularity was at an all time low. Nobody was really sure who built all the damn things in the first place, but they certainly weren’t building any new ones. In fact, most people owning them who hadn’t been dismembered by the inhabiting Bull-Men were already sealing them off or dynamiting them for fun. This proved to be the death knell for the hapless minotaur.
By 1850, with the notable exception of Sweden, most countries had passed laws making it difficult for women to engage in sex “with bulls, or bull-like men”. More so, being dragged off into “…complex caves, and warrens, and the like…” to be raped, manacled, and left for dead was strictly outlawed. While today these laws seem draconian and oppressive, they were typical for the times.
It is a story we are all too familiar with by now; destruction of habitat, dispersal of weakened population, and restriction of carnal desires to do unspeakable things to people. These are the hallmarks of the ends of species at the hands of man. We mourn you dear Minotaur, as we do the Irish elk, sabertooth tiger, giant sloth, and nobel Triceratops who passed before you.
Yet again, National Geographic, in their crass, libertarian way, proudly announce that they have discovered sharks can now fly as if that is perfectly OK.
It is NOT OK.
Am I the only one who is concerned about this?!
African penguins face extinction, and President Obama has not shut up about it once in the last 6 months. Oh sure, it’s a tragedy, but not one that the birds themselves did not play at least some small part in bringing about. Alas, we have such short memories and it falls on the wise old owls to remember the truth. It was only 1876 when these “African” penguins revealed themselves for what they are: defectors.
As one of only two flightless birds in the southern hemisphere capable of reading marine navigational charts, this species of penguin had long considered itself superior to other penguins scraping a meager existence out of the Antarctic ice shelf.
As with other animals, it was only a matter of time before they discovered how to build crude sailing vessels, and on July 5, 1876 they set sail from the Ronne-Filchner ice shelf in search of better tasting herring, warmth, and glory.
While it is one thing to be able build ships and read navigational charts, to be able to do it well is another thing entirely. Predictably, of the 90,000,000 or so that left that day, only about 10,000,000 actually made it to the sunny shores of South Africa after a frustrating 6 and a half year journey. Sadly, more than half of these were eaten within a year by lions.
Fate is a cruel strumpet, and as she would have it, not one of the surviving penguins could read a map to save their lives, let alone build even the simplest of row boats. Thus, these last penguins doomed themselves and their progeny to dwindle away on the harsh, hostile coast of the African Continent.
You might be interested to know that this is where the well-worn saying, “Be careful of what you wish for, you stupid penguins” comes from.
Coelacanths have been found to live to be more than 100 years old, but don’t show their age? Surely you jest. If ANYTHING looks 100 years old, it’s THIS fish.
You might think I am always slagging on whales. You also might think I care that you might think that. I don’t. They deserve it. I would just freaking love it if I could once, just once, go sea bird watching without goddamn humpback whales splashing with their tails and breaching all the time to ruin it for everyone. Can’t you go breath somewhere else?
Nobody likes a grandstander, sperm whales. You know damn well you’re doing it too. Yes, yes we all know you are the deepest divers in the ocean, and we all know you dive the deepest longer than anything else alive. Oh, of course we are all well aware that you keep the giant squid from dominating the seas with it’s malicious plans.
Don’t get me wrong, we are grateful for what you do. I personally overlook my strict rule of not trusting anything with eyes that close to it’s mouth just for you. We even suffer your occasional dramatic displays as you drag your dying selves onto our beaches and eventually explode with your built up decomposition gases.
Now you want us to cultivate an appreciation for your regional dialects? C'mon guys. Enough is enough. Do we expect you to recognize how different France french is from Quebec french, or that Americans pretty much refuse to acknowledge the native inflection of any word? I don’t suppose you spare much thought to just how incredibly grating a thick Massachusetts accent is either…
Ok, I’m sorry. That was a low blow. Melville references still really sting with you guys don’t they?
I’m just saying give it a rest. Just because we don’t know which other wales do it doesn’t mean they don’t. You are getting as bad as the damn orcas with their incessant stream of “Us! Us! Us!” messaging. Yes, we call them orcas now. “Killer Whale” is apparently no longer acceptable these days. People are pretty much fed up with their shit, so please use them as a cautionary tale.
A question from Joan (@shesalittle):
On this disgusting spring day, I must ask…I read male ducks drop their penis after mating & regrow next mating season. True?
First things first. You are very disturbed to be awake night after night thinking about this.
The answer is no. This has been a myth perpetrated by geese. The aggressive goose segregationist movement has been behind a malicious smear campaign against ducks and swans since the 1940’s. This is just one of the many lies they have managed to sew and it has stuck.
Ducks spend all day swimming around in cold water, so it stands to reason that they would be more “growers” than “showers” Give them a goddamn break.