Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where every day is a holy day! If you wake up in the morning, and you're breathing, then rock on! You're alive! If you wake up and there's a bunch of fairies flitting around, then you've Gone West. Please pay my respects to Queen Brighid the Bright!
Does your town have a Monkey Man?
I don't mean one of those creepy sorts that dresses up in a gorilla suit, or a Missing Link, or Rush Limbaugh coming down off an OxyContin high. I mean a real, bona fide, cheerfully wackadoo Monkey Man.
Our town has a Monkey Man. He is about my age, I'd say (in other words, no one knows). He rides around town on a bike, with his beloved and ancient stuffed monkey in the old-fashioned bike basket. When he sees kids, he waves the monkey's paw and says, "Hello, kids! Ooooo oooo ooo AHH AHHH AHHH!"
My most faithful readers will have heard of this delightful human being before. The Focus on the Family crowd is shivering in their shoes.
Sounds like a pedophile, eh? Someone who lures innocent kids with a toy monkey and then ...
Sorry. We leave that to certain religious clerics.
Our Monkey Man has an email address, lets you take his picture, and is a life-long resident of the town. Everyone knows him. Everyone loves him. Best of all, he loves himself and his monkey, Bongo.
Gee, I wonder if the Monkey Man takes Bongo to bed? Then it would be "Bedtime for Bongo," and the Monkey Man should run for president!
Last week, a teenager running cross country found Bongo in the woods. She knew right away that Bongo belonged to the Monkey Man, so she took Bongo to the police station. Word spread through town, and before Anne could even bail Bongo out, the Monkey Man had been there, paid the loitering fines, and sprung his stuffed chimp from stir.
A happy ending! But stay tuned, because one of these days we'll have a photo of the Monkey Man on this site. He is a god among us, because he lives to make people smile.
Only he doesn't quite qualify for our editorial purposes. He isn't bored.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS