Goats really are evil! At last, someone has independently confirmed it! Look at the head photo! I'm not making this stuff up!
read about it in the Onion!
Monday, May 14, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
I am in fact, ahead of my time
If you peruse any of my previous posts, you will notice that they are filled with apocalyptic visions of evil goats implemeting their evil plans to take over the world and establish a new world order that looks suspiciously like the United Nations.
It appears that a radical contingent of anti-goatists have taken my apocalyptic visions to heart and have launched a pre-emptive strike against the goat population of the Galapagos Islands under the guise that they're "destroying the environment." I've got news for all these anti-goatists out there: Goats are protecting you! Evil heards of evil Goats aren't the problem, its the eviler hoards of eviler pelicans that are the problem! who do you think is going to protect you when their eviler hoard descends 21,000 strong from those tiny rocks in that river in Senegal. Hitchcock was right: birds are freaky.
“We’re at war, and we’ve won one of our biggest battles,” said Mr. Cruz, the hunting overseer. “But we can’t rest until we kill them all.”
(i'm not joking, he really said that. you can check)
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/01/world/americas/01galapagos.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
And in other news from the animal kingdom today...apparently ducks have been taking a little too much of that enzyte stuff...they're becoming rather well endowed. i'm talking the length of their bodies well endowed. thats not even the craziest thing. the thing that got me was that somebody actually has to study this stuff! thats just weird.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/01/science/01duck.html?pagewanted=2&_r=1
a few choice quotes first:
“Obviously you can’t have something like that without some place to put it in. You need a garage to park the car.” - Dr. Patricia Brennan, duck scientist
"To test her hypothesis, Dr. Brennan plans to team up with a biomechanics expert to build a transparent model of a female duck. She wants to see exactly what a duck phallus does during mating."
Think about this one for a second. Malaria, AIDS, and cancer - three of the biggest killers of people on the planet have no actual cure, and we have people trying to figure out how ducks get it on?? Dude, people are weird...
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
The End of an Era :(
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this past weekend marked the end of an era in my Senegalese life.
Many of you may (or may not - it's ok) remember my sandals. At the beginning of the semester, I had a pair of sandals which I wore every day in Senegal (cause lets face it, it was WAY too hott-yes with 2 t's- for anything else on your feet there). These were a black pair of sandals, with velcro tabs. One day, my little brother Bebecheikh stepped on the heel as we were playing football in the courtyard, and the strap broke. I resorted to duck-taping the straps to the soles so as to avoid doing something crazy (like say wearing socks). Let's just say I really loved washing my feet.
One day, as we were walking through the village of Toubab Dialaw (remember that???) your friend and mine, Scott Belden asked me why, exactly was I wearing duck tape on my feet. It was a question that I had been faced with many times before - mostly by my MamaRama as she was called, and the little devils that I called my nephews/brothers. My answer was, as is usual - I'll get around to it. Now this chance meeting with Scott happened to coencide with a secret mission of his to find sandals that fit, for alas, poor Scott, for all his kindness and friendliness, apparently had feet the shapes which were unseen in Senegal (that is to say - he had trouble finding sandals that fit).
So Scott leads a party which, including myself, intended to seek out and find a pair of sandals at the local boutique for him to wear. After trying on numerous pairs in all colors, black, gray, red, and blue, he finally, like dorothy, found a pair that was juuuuuuuuuust right. And thus Scott found his elusive well-fitting sandals.
Suddenly, Scott found himself in a dilemma. He had 2 pairs of sandals, and only use for one. What was a toubab to do? Luckily for us, Scott was fairly observant and noticed the structural additions that I had pieced my sandals together with, and so he struck upon an idea - give the toubab with the broken sandals the ill-fitting sandals, because anyone would rather have ill fitting sandals than broken sandals with structural adjustments. And LO! like the glass slipper the sandal didst fit perfectly! Scott had found his midnight princess (me)!
And so I came to acquire a fantastic pair of sandals that carried me through the rest of the semester, protecting me from the heat of the ground, and creating a wide swath of white pristine clean where the band wrapped around my foot. They gathered the dust of Dakar's streets, and when I returned to the cold, coldness of the States, I took my toothpick and saved that sweat, dust, and who knows what else-filled paste that had collected in the bottom of my sandal and sealed it in a plastic bag. You know, for posterity's sake and all. so i should show my kids one day.
I continued to wear my sandals, first at the pool (cause it was so freaking cold) and then as the trees started getting greener, and the weather started to get warmer, i ventured to wear them outside. It was glorious.
but no more.
At approximately 12:30 on sunday morning, I attended a cast party for my theater company's final show of the semester. i was looking spiffy in my toga complete with that blue indigo cloth that everyone liked so much and a kente cloth belt from ghana. there we engaged in endless debauchery, the kinds of which would make a sailor blush and lets just say thank GOD that no pictures have surfaced. needless to say, it was a lot of fun.
As the party was just getting started as the saying goes, i ran from the back patio through the kitchen and into the living room where the dancing was going on (yes, we danced too). all of the sudden, i felt something heavy fall on the back of my heel, something briefly holding me back and then it let my foot go. but my sandal did not come with it.
Yes, dear friends! in a cruel twist of irony, my sandal strap broke, a victim of the same sort of accident that killed my first pair! oh i was devestated! my sandals that had carried my feet through the dust, the dirt, the blinding heat and sweat of Dakar had finally perished! oh woe was they!!!
i ended up walking three of my ladyfriends home (as i learned to do in Senegal), barefoot. in a toga. with no goats to escort me home, its a miracle i made it.
and so thus, with my pair of sandals gone, i have laid to rest one part of senegal. :*( tear.
in other news, has anyone else found themselves as hostile to air conditioning as i seem to be? I'm finding the whole notion of it absolutely absurd.
hope all is well. ba bennen in'challah
love,
jake
Many of you may (or may not - it's ok) remember my sandals. At the beginning of the semester, I had a pair of sandals which I wore every day in Senegal (cause lets face it, it was WAY too hott-yes with 2 t's- for anything else on your feet there). These were a black pair of sandals, with velcro tabs. One day, my little brother Bebecheikh stepped on the heel as we were playing football in the courtyard, and the strap broke. I resorted to duck-taping the straps to the soles so as to avoid doing something crazy (like say wearing socks). Let's just say I really loved washing my feet.
One day, as we were walking through the village of Toubab Dialaw (remember that???) your friend and mine, Scott Belden asked me why, exactly was I wearing duck tape on my feet. It was a question that I had been faced with many times before - mostly by my MamaRama as she was called, and the little devils that I called my nephews/brothers. My answer was, as is usual - I'll get around to it. Now this chance meeting with Scott happened to coencide with a secret mission of his to find sandals that fit, for alas, poor Scott, for all his kindness and friendliness, apparently had feet the shapes which were unseen in Senegal (that is to say - he had trouble finding sandals that fit).
So Scott leads a party which, including myself, intended to seek out and find a pair of sandals at the local boutique for him to wear. After trying on numerous pairs in all colors, black, gray, red, and blue, he finally, like dorothy, found a pair that was juuuuuuuuuust right. And thus Scott found his elusive well-fitting sandals.
Suddenly, Scott found himself in a dilemma. He had 2 pairs of sandals, and only use for one. What was a toubab to do? Luckily for us, Scott was fairly observant and noticed the structural additions that I had pieced my sandals together with, and so he struck upon an idea - give the toubab with the broken sandals the ill-fitting sandals, because anyone would rather have ill fitting sandals than broken sandals with structural adjustments. And LO! like the glass slipper the sandal didst fit perfectly! Scott had found his midnight princess (me)!
And so I came to acquire a fantastic pair of sandals that carried me through the rest of the semester, protecting me from the heat of the ground, and creating a wide swath of white pristine clean where the band wrapped around my foot. They gathered the dust of Dakar's streets, and when I returned to the cold, coldness of the States, I took my toothpick and saved that sweat, dust, and who knows what else-filled paste that had collected in the bottom of my sandal and sealed it in a plastic bag. You know, for posterity's sake and all. so i should show my kids one day.
I continued to wear my sandals, first at the pool (cause it was so freaking cold) and then as the trees started getting greener, and the weather started to get warmer, i ventured to wear them outside. It was glorious.
but no more.
At approximately 12:30 on sunday morning, I attended a cast party for my theater company's final show of the semester. i was looking spiffy in my toga complete with that blue indigo cloth that everyone liked so much and a kente cloth belt from ghana. there we engaged in endless debauchery, the kinds of which would make a sailor blush and lets just say thank GOD that no pictures have surfaced. needless to say, it was a lot of fun.
As the party was just getting started as the saying goes, i ran from the back patio through the kitchen and into the living room where the dancing was going on (yes, we danced too). all of the sudden, i felt something heavy fall on the back of my heel, something briefly holding me back and then it let my foot go. but my sandal did not come with it.
Yes, dear friends! in a cruel twist of irony, my sandal strap broke, a victim of the same sort of accident that killed my first pair! oh i was devestated! my sandals that had carried my feet through the dust, the dirt, the blinding heat and sweat of Dakar had finally perished! oh woe was they!!!
i ended up walking three of my ladyfriends home (as i learned to do in Senegal), barefoot. in a toga. with no goats to escort me home, its a miracle i made it.
and so thus, with my pair of sandals gone, i have laid to rest one part of senegal. :*( tear.
in other news, has anyone else found themselves as hostile to air conditioning as i seem to be? I'm finding the whole notion of it absolutely absurd.
hope all is well. ba bennen in'challah
love,
jake
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