Monkey business
I’ve wondered for some time how much security we’re really getting for all the money we’re spending on TSAs and DHSs and other acronyms. And now I read the story of a guy who made it into the United States with a pet monkey hidden under his hat on his flight from Peru.
And that scares me. Because I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark, so I know that monkeys are evil little Devils who enjoy doing evil things.
Picture an angry monkey sneaking into the USA with a folded-up scrap of paper in his pocket that says “Al Qaeda fed up with ground-zero construction delays.” Chilling, eh? Now next time you’re at the airport, notice all the hats a monkey could fit under.
I’m sure enjoying not traveling this summer.
This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 7th, 2007 at 11:25 pm. You can subscribe to comments on this post through its RSS feed.
on August 7, 2007 at 11:31 pm Megan wrote:
Why don’t we have a pet monkey?
on August 8, 2007 at 8:24 am Tom wrote:
It almost never happens, but I love the days when you seem more insane than me. It helps me relax about my little mental ebbs and flows.
When I worked at the pet store years ago, we no longer sold monkeys. However they did sell monkeys for years — you had to buy them in pairs or they died of ennui (see “N is for Neville”). We had people come in with their monkeys, and I can vouch for the fact that they are only behind guinea pigs and ferrets as being the most vicious, uncuddly beasts people are allowed to own. Iguanas were nicer than the monkeys.
‘Course, it could have had something to do with the fact that the kind of person who buys a pair of monkeys seems to be the same kind of person who would spoil a pair of monkeys. (How’s THAT for a string of English words you never thought you’d see in that order?)
on August 8, 2007 at 9:37 am Doug wrote:
For all the reasons Tom explained, Dear. The cats are spoiled enough.
on August 8, 2007 at 11:01 am The Aunt wrote:
it’s not too late for you to get a pair of monkies. Round out the family, don’t you think? And think of Ike, Murg and Fish—the hours of endless fun for them!
got home late last night. Karlan still in the morgue at Kaiser. The whole week: a costly and ultimately nightmare experience that accomplished all of nothing other than clearing out his apt. Molly got some good stuff, Elton accepted a good duffle bag, Querido lots of locks and keys and some kind of strange, ethnic musical intstruments that had a faint taint of voodoo to me. Or not.
Just wandering around in my mind, as confused and surprised as ever at the wheels of legal process and how they seem to turn backwards. What a week.
Much love, kiddos. Gran says hey.