An Ingenious Plan

My selfless quest to save the Helmeted Woodpecker from certain destruction at the hands of out-of-control monkeys is progressing nicely. I realize that my previous order to kill all monkeys may have gone a bit overboard. Basically, to more-or-less narrow things down significantly, I’m proud to announce the announcement of a new and freshly laminated protocol: Procurement Of Owl-monkey Parts (POOP). Obviously, this is largely, if not entirely, based on Samuel’s description of his friend’s description of the monkey observed possibly robbing a woodpecker nest of its precious and irreplaceable contents.

For logistical reasons, I’ve placed the success of the aforementioned protocols in the soft and able hands of my technician Carl. Basically, as you may or may not recall, Carl came to this country from China and brought numerous members of his podiatrically inclined family. As you may or may not basically realize from the name of said protocol, it involves capturing and dispatching of Owl-monkeys, then basically inserting testicles, gall bladders, and other assorted valuable body parts into condoms or balloons and ingesting aforementioned condoms or balloons prior to departure for China. For those that don’t die from unfortunate intestinal blockages, the proceeds from the sale of aforementioned monkey parts will be used to fund the interview process associated with my newly laminated HERPIES protocol. An opportunity to simultaneously save the Helmeted Woodpecker and contribute to overall Earth-saving is rare, but it’s probably not surprising that I’ve thought of it.

I have HERPIES...

Even though nobody has specifically asked about my new protocol for replacing my Earth-saving life partner, I’m sure that you’ve been wondering and I thought I may provide some explanation such that you may understand. The HERPIES protocol basically involves a very detailed list of suitable criteria for aforementioned personnel such that the replaced person(s) may fulfill the necessary duties in an adequate and appropriate yet worthwhile way for numerous years, potentially possibly more-or-less indefinitely. Explaining the entire protocol in detail is likely futile, as you basically likely aren’t capable of fully understanding. Nonetheless, I feel obligated to try to dumb it down for you such that you may grasp its importance. Obviously, admiring me and my brazen quest for saving Earth from man’s ungentle donkey punch of destruction is first and foremost on the aforementioned list. A second but possibly equally important qualification is that all people of eastern European descent are automatically disqualified from further consideration. The above aforementioned criteria, along with a strong preference for hirsutism, are basically the guiding principles for HERPIES, and I’m looking forward to Mitzi narrowing the sure-to-be extensive applicant pool in the not-too-distant yet close-to-immediate future. The protocol is laminated, and it’s time to begin. Wish me luck. Basically, Earth’s future hangs in the balance.

Murderous Marauding Monkeys

Enough with the freaking monkey questions! Are you freaking kidding me?!? Did you not read about my historic enacting of the HERPIES protocol?!? The dead monkeys were delivered to Samuel, the local butcher. Obviously, he grinds the aforementioned primates and includes the meat as fillers for ground beef and various sausages whilst exporting various organs via Chinese smugglers.

This is important because the aforementioned monkey meat offsets the horrendous environmental impacts of the Paraguayan beef industry. Also, basically, Samuel recently informed me that the reason we’re having no luck finding Helmeted Woodpecker nests is because of monkey overpopulation. He went on to explain that he knows someone who saw a monkey raiding a woodpecker nest. Obviously, I can’t just stand by and watch these murderous marauding monkeys drive the most glorious creature on this planet to its demise. To stop these pugnacious primates, I’ve ordered all members of my crew to trap or kill every monkey they encounter such that they can be delivered to Samuel. Saving the Earth is sometimes an insalubrious job, but I’m obviously the only person qualified for the aforementioned task.

A Brief Moment of Reflection

Basically, this is the last question I’ll answer about Yuri’s damned monkeys. Yes, Mateo and Rogelio hid another monkey, and no I didn’t find it for months. As you may or may not know, I don’t regularly visit the earthen huts where “the help” stay, but an anonymous report of an above-average flea infestation forced me to investigate. As I methodically worked through the hut inspection protocol, I found it hidden under an old Zima crate. This time, they had it dressed up like a woman. Are you freaking kidding me?!? Exploiting the fact that I won’t hit a woman or any creature dressed like a woman?!?

Then Rogelio uttered its name, Ursulita, and I launched into an uncontrollable rage. As I asphyxiated the creature and bludgeoned her to death with my pocket-sized abacus, I felt a strange sense of arousal and longing for companionship. It was with the death of this small primate that I also said goodbye to my months-long denial about Ursula’s ultimate betrayal. Basically, I realized it was time find a replacement such that my Earth-saving activities may again be facilitated by an unabashed admirer, hopefully one with a father capable of producing an appropriate dowry. Obviously, I ordered Mitzi to immediately form a search committee to enact the Honouring Earth by Replacing Personnel Inasmuch as Earth needs Saved protocol (HERPIES).

Blunt-force Trauma

Enough questions about the damned monkeys. Yes, Mateo and Rogelio hid one of the monkeys.They trained the damned thing to use a baseball bat thinking that would deter me from getting rid of it. Are you freaking kidding me?!? Baseball?!? You’re going to insult someone that’s basically the world’s biggest cricket fan by giving this creature a baseball bat?!?

As I was beating that monkey to death with my favourite cricket bat, do you know what that monkey had the nerve to do to my bat? He freaking bit it! That bat was signed by Sir Don Bradman, basically the greatest batsman of all time, and now it’s got monkey tooth marks! So no, I don’t like monkeys anymore. You’ve ruined my life Yuri.

Musical Monkey Meat

I must finally put to rest one of the most often asked questions in the great history of my chronicle. Obviously, I’m talking about the fate of the non-native musical primates foolishly gifted to me by my former fiancé’s father, Yuri. Yuri being the name of the father, not the former fiancé, whose name I basically cannot even say without experiencing spontaneous bladder leakage. Anyhow, my initial response was to order Mateo to let them loose in the rainforest. I don’t have time to waste caring for these damned monkeys, I spend nearly every waking minute saving the Earth from man’s thoughtless actions. Eventually, Mateo and Rogelio convinced me that, although not appropriate as a tribute to Milli Vanilli, these apes might have some musical value. After two days of the monkeys' musical tribute to the Monkees, I ended this ill-conceived attempt at recycling and sold the monkeys to a local butcher. It was the only logical choice and the fastest way to stop their consumption of Paraguay's precious natural resources. That is my answer to your question. Next question.

Impeccable Penmanship

How do I function realizing that the value of my signature will one day be priceless? No, this is not one of the questions basically submitted by you, my loyal followers, but nonetheless is a question I was sure you’d be wondering about. My burden is basically unlike any other placed on a contemporary scientist. With great supremacy comes a prodigious encumbrance. I basically know what you’re thinking, I sound even more erudite that normal. Well let me explain such that you may understand. Realizing the future importance of my autograph caused me to do two things. First, I’ve set aside two hours per day to practice my autograph such that it is aesthetically pleasing and impossible to counterfeit. Second, I’ve hired a notary to certify all signed documents, including credit card receipts. Obviously, this notary is also an unemployed linguist who brought with him two special books; one he calls a “dictionary” and the other a “thesaurus.” I basically already know what you’re thinking, what on Earth does he do with a book of pornography and a book about dinosaurs? Basically, that’s not what these are, they’re books full of fancy words.

Lazlo has been showering me with complements since beginning employment as my senior notary, using words like “excruciating”, “abysmal”, “appalling”, “horrendous”, and “atrocious” to describe my writing. Basically, I don’t know what any of these words mean, but I’m honoured that he would use such extravagant words to describe my work. Therefore, I’ve ordered Lazlo to use his magic books to improve upon my word choice, if that’s possible, such that my signature may one day be even more valuable. Basically, I will use the proceeds from my autographs to fund my Earth saving operation. It’s the least I can do.

A quick update for my fans

Basically, I know it’s been a relatively long time since my previous post, but several “issues” have prevented me from keeping you all posted on what’s been happening in the life of the WGB, one of which I feel the need to discuss. Hopefully, the number of suicides related to my lack of communication was lower than last year’s all-time high of 47 people, 2 cats, and a goat. In early December, 2010, I fell ill and, at first, assumed it was a result of my consumption of 3 ounces of locally produced, grass-fed beef. Basically, as you may or may not know, I stopped eating beef at the age of 7 because it always resulted in projectile vomiting. I decided to try beef again, however, since the price of genetically engineered, super-sized chicken drumsticks recently skyrocketed. After eating my 3 ounces of beef and downing 3 Zimas in one sitting, I immediately began shaking uncontrollably and wetting myself. After saturating 20 pairs of underwear and my favorite pair of long johns with my own urine, I was forced to visit the local “doctor” to see what was wrong. After numerous blood tests, a prostate exam, and a colonoscopy, which I am convinced I didn’t need, the “doctor” informed me that I had contracted what the locals here call “gonofacillaherpulitis.” I know, I said “Ghona-what the @#$*?” the first time I heard it too. Basically, it’s a mega-STD – a repulsive cocktail of venereal diseases, minus HIV. The “doctor” gave me a brochure describing its symptoms, the most severe of which include: explosive diarrhea, inflammation of the neck, buttocks, lips, and little toes, lactation, uncontrollable drooling, an unbearably itchy rash where one’s reproductive organs are situated, and frequent bed-wetting. I feel I need to start by saying, no, I am not as promiscuous as my contracting gonofacillaherpulitis would suggest. Yes, I have been “playing the field” a bit since Ursula ran over my heart with a steamroller, but, as the founder and president of Control de la Natalidad Internacional, I am a very strong advocate and practitioner of responsible copulatory behavior. Therefore, there is only one way I can think of that I contracted this horrible disease. You might recall the rabid owl monkey used during the HEWOdome battles (see 10/29/2009 post). Well, I decided to keep it as a pet since I despise the act of releasing domesticated animals into the wild. Basically, as I enjoyed a Zima and watched Milli Vanilli’s farewell concert on DVD one night, that no good excuse for a primate tried to steal one of my chicken drumsticks and, after I hit it in the head with my television remote, it freaked out and bit me in the neck and right buttocks before I was able to knock it out with an empty bottle of Zima and chicken leg. Basically, I assume this mauling was how I contracted the aforementioned disease. Although my health has since improved (no more swelling, lactation, or drooling), I am still forced to wear adult diapers and my technicians must take turns rubbing an environmentally friendly plant-derived lotion on my rash. I therefore ask that you all think positively and hang in there as my health continues to improve such that I can once again provide you all with updates of my life such that you may not feel the need to end yours. Basically, with love, The WGB