Saturday, August 20, 2011

Promoted from the comments


Eli has always been a bunny to favor activities that are designed pour encourager les autres so this from the comments

Wiley Coyote said...

Dear Mr. Dr. Professor Rabbit,

On behalf of the pack, I wish to express our sincere thanks for the relative flurry of recent, animal related posts and comments, covering all manner of interesting topics from polar bears to whales, hemiptera and kissing bugs, and much to our delight, even the pack's current favorite, cladistics, to which are ears are fully tuned, given the breathtaking amount of attention that the former Mr. Dr. Professor Gould devotes to it in his previously mentioned opus. We did not fully appreciate the term "long winded" until we embarked on that tome in our weekly book club discussions. And this even without his consideration of the mysteries of Republican phylogeny, convoluted as they almost certainly are by recent catastrophic mutations, repeated inbreeding and general genomic chaos.

Anyway, to the point. Following your recent posting regarding Mr. Dr. Gore's forceful identification and declaration of various male bovid fecals, I gathered the pack at the library to observe Mr Dr Gore's methods. All were very highly impressed, and could relate, given that we spend considerable time on our various identification skills, and well, natural history in general. I mean after all, we are outside pretty much "24/7", save for our trips to the library in Winslow and of course our thrice daily trips to the local watering hole. Anyway, during our identification exercises, when a fecal, track, or an animal of any kind, is spotted, all members initially--and loudly--call out whatever species they believe is represented, after which our scientific decorum returns, field guides are consulted if necessary, and a consensus opinion is formed.

It is within this background that the unfortunate--but fully understandable given the situation--incident occurred.

Well, we had heard that a live feed of the recent climate conference from the "Heartland" group in Chicago had been obtained by the local "drive-in" theater, and even though same is roughly 120 miles away, we thought it likely to be edifying and worth the trip. Unfortunately, the ardors of the journey took their toll, and the best that most of the pack could do upon arrival was to curl up, as we are wont to do, right in front of the big screen, and allow the remarkably monotonic droning of the various speakers to encourage dreamland, which they most certainly did.

Although the exact course of events is not 100% clear at this point, I believe that it was just as Mr. Dr. Professor Fred Singer, PhD--or perhaps it was Mr. Dr. Professor Patrick Michaels, PhD--was beginning his talk, that Stu, our most senior member, who sleeps with one eye open at all times, spotted that most charming and emblematic equid holdover of the old mining days in these parts, making its way slowly off toward the eastern horizon, well beyond--but just off to the left of--the big screen.

The instincts engaged at once, he leaped almost against his will to his hind feet, which in fact put him on the roof of the adjacent Chevy Subdivision, fully silhouetted by the big projector for all to see, almost as if Mr Drs Singer or Michaels were engaged in some type of canid ventriloquism. Pointing with both paws, he called out in no uncertain terms "JACKASS, 1100 HOURS!!".

Well, this instantly awakened the entire pack and instigated the most awful group howl imaginable, such that Mr Drs Singer/Michaels, though fully animated, were effectively saying nothing. Now this is probably not an uncommon situation, but the synergism of the howling, Stu's sudden screen appearance, and the effectively muted conference speakers was not entirely well received by the automotively entrenched audience.

This state of affairs was helped not at all when my half cousin Terrence, who is also half deaf and was also still half asleep, but knows his fecals like no other, spotted a large pie of male bovine origin, not but 30 feet from our chosen location, and, in a manner of which Mr Dr Gore would be proud, vocally identified it with an enthusiasm that could only be described as startling.

This in turn set off at least three car alarms nearby, but maybe twelve or fifteen, it's hard to say, as some of these devices are apparently connected to the horn system, which in some vehicles of the "4x4" variety, are uncommonly similar to train horns. Numerous exclamations taking a wide variety of forms were almost immediately heard emanating from said vehicles at this point, and a fair volume of popcorn, Milk Duds and beverages were spilt, before the cans were thrown and the guns began to go off.

What followed are unimportant details, but I would just like to say that contrary to the news reports, the number of which was surprising, none of the pack initiated any of the reported exchanges, many of which were blown completely out of proportion. On the positive side, the rocket skates performed flawlessly under considerable duress, and we were glad to have brought them with us.

Sincerely,
Wiley

2 comments:

David B. Benson said...

Well done, Wiley!

Russell said...

The division of Acme Products that employs Manbearprof Michaels and The Amazing Singer has erected a Grand Canyon rim billboard proclaiming their contempt for Cousin Terrence's imagined powers of coproprognostication :

WE DON'T NEED YOUR FEELTHY PEER REVIEW!