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

Somebody ask a freaking question

So you know, I basically started a series where I wanted people to ask me questions and then I'd answer them. Except I'm not getting any. Questions, that is. Except from freaking Leroy Hornsnarkle the III or whatever his name is.

No really, use the comments box. Ask a question. I'll answer it. I'm smart. Obviously.

So then I'll tell you my smarts and you'll be smart.

I guess I am a stickler about one thing.

I guess I should clarify that, although I think punctuation, spelling, and use of words that are actually words and not just jumbles of letters that I made up are basically totally overrated, I am a stickler about one thing" proper use of numbers in journal articles. Sometimes numbers need to be presented as numerals, and other times

they have to be written out. It's completely obvious when to use which, and when I see things like "We kidnapped 3 rival researchers", or "Thirty birds had to be destroyed" in people's writing, it's so inconsistent, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Here are my completely obvious and universal guidelines that are so simple that a lemur playing a tenor saxophone could follow them.

Use digits for numbers (e.g., 7,000,000,000,000,000,000 and .1) unless the number is the first word of a sentence or is used as a pronoun (e.g., at least one was killed when we ran it over), in which case the number is spelled out. Except, obviously, write out numbers one to nine unless a measurement; use numerals for numbers ≥10. Basically, for things that are obviously measurements: use numerals (6 panda bears, 8 days, 2 television sets). Non-measurements: (a) if 0–9, write out number (eight zimae); (b) if ≥10, use numeral (10 zimae). Series: (a) for a series of related numbers (≥1 numbers), with at least one number being ≥10, use all numerals (2 marked individuals, 22 marked pairs, and 8 unmarked pairs); (b) if all numbers are less than 10, good for you, they'll be easy to add up later. Numbers less than ten within a series should be written out always, without exception; (c) except within parentheses, use numerals: the equipment needed to be replaced when I dropped it in a lake (9 cell phones, 8 video cameras, 7 battery-powered massagers); (e) except also except basically when within 100 characters from the letter "q", then write out all numbers: We cut down one-hundred and eighty lineated woodpecker nest trees with a Husqvarna (Stockholm, Sweden) chainsaw.

Treat ordinal numbers using a random number table, using 3rd for odds, and third for evens.

When reviewing or editing a paper, use a nested series of random number tables, making the logic behind your recommendation of numbering rules essentially impossible to decipher.

When noting the year that events happened, use "in the year of Our Lord Nine-teen Hundred and Seventy-two."

Indicate units after each item (e.g., blood loss ranged from 3 to 10 pints) and use symbols or abbreviations (e.g., % and mllmeters) for measurement units that follow a number. Unless the number is indefinite (thousands of casualties), is a “0" (oh) or “1” (won) standing alone, or is the first word in a sentence. In such cases spell out the number and unit name or recast the sentence. Avoid using introductory phrases (e.g. one day I had to take a dump real bad …).

Spell out ordinal numbers (e.g., first, two-hundred seventieth) in text and Literature Cited, but use digits for cases such as 38-fold and 3-way.

Convert fractions (99/1343, 13321/8463465543, etc.) to decimals except where fractions look more impressive.

Write out all summations and factorials. Show every step, using a number 2 pencil, and scan it in as a figure. Write out the figure number.

When reporting on numbers generated by a computer, use binary.

Report band numbers of birds originally banded in Italy using roman numerals.

Hyphenate number-unit phrases used as adjectives (e.g., 2-m^2 prison cells and 5-yr-old hookers) but not those used as predicate adjectives (e.g., prison cells were 2 m^2, hookers were 5yr old).

When doing fieldwork in a large field, communicate numbers using sephamore flags.

Insert commas in numbers ≥1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 or when pricing garments in Europe.

Do not insert a comma or hyphen between consecutive, separate numbers in a phrase (33-1/3 3-m^3 plots).

Do not use naked decimals (i.e., use 0.05, not .05), this is a family journal. When identifying items by number, use lowercase for names (e.g., 1 bob, 2 ed, 3 shirley).

Use scientific notation in tables to save space (e.g., 1.0 x 10^1).

POGOSTICK!!

Dear readers,

I have found the wave of the future. Have you ever been corrected by someone whose like, that sentence doesnt have a verb! or like dont start a sentence with a comma?!?@! Me too, I hate that. Thusly, I basically have decided to basically start basically my own jrounal. I’ve decided to dispnse with copy-editing entirely. Which makes things alot cheaper. Because it’s cheaper its for sure better. In this nou digital age, we must press forward, and leave the conventi ns of print behind us. The future is now. I present, my new table of contents for my peer-reviewed un-copy-edited Paraguayan Ornithological Gournal Of Stuff That Is Curently Known (POGOSTICK). Additionally, I found it completely unnecessary to employ English speakers, because they are more expensive than is needed for such menial work.

Link to full size cover:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/56209971@N05/5200039826/

My New Office

Basically, let me start off by apologizing for not posting updates about my life more frequently. As you all may or may not know, being such a prestigious biologist requires devotion and hard work, which unfortunately, means I must neglect all of you, my loyal minions, from time to time. But, now that I have completed my fieldwork for the year, I shall be posting more frequently.

Basically, this past field season was a complete success. Although my post-capture mortality rate was the same as previous years, HEWOs that had rocket backpack transmitters affixed to them dispersed significantly further than those without rocket transmitters, further supporting their usefulness. In addition, I developed a new method for collecting vegetation data (along with a painstakingly detailed series of protocols outlining its implementation). Basically, I decided that, rather than waste my time collecting data in the heat and humidity of the forest with a bunch of foul smelling technicians, I would bring the vegetation back to my field house where I could collect data in a more comfortable atmosphere. This method work beautifully. How many times have you collected vegetation data while sipping a Zima and eating chicken wings? Exactly!

In other news, upon returning from the field I realized my office was completely unbecoming of a biologist of my stature and decided to send video of my decrepit working conditions to “Extreme Office Makeover: Paraguay Edition.” Not surprisingly, I was selected to have my office made over and after several weeks of alterations, arguments with the construction workers, and several million dollars in additional funding from my grants, I had the office of my dreams.

I even found a bit of money to buy my technicians some office space so they’d stop complaining about the bugs outside and start entering and analyzing some freaking data.

Unfortunately, with improved working conditions comes increased life expectancy and I could not tolerate paying the same technicians for more than one field season, so I had to fire some (a.k.a., trading them to the locals for access to their lands). Before they left they handed me a list of things they "hate" about me. Are you freakin’ kidding me?! After letting them work for me, they felt the need to tell me what they don't like? Basically, as I've always said, when I want their opinion I'll give it to them. Obviously, they are either jealous of my intellectual greatness or are too ignorant to understand that Mother Nature is the most important thing to me, not the their happiness. Basically, the list read something like this:

Top Ten Things We Hate About You

10) Your hair
9) Your unhealthy obsession with chicken wings
8) Your bunions
7) Your belief that we should pay you for allowing us to work with you
6) The only room with air-conditioning being used as a giant cooler for your Zima
5) Your total disregard for the safety of your technicians
4) Your tendency to break or otherwise damage everything you borrow
3) Your blog
2) The 167 protocols you make us memorize
1) “Basically”