Monkey Business

          You knew, sooner or later, that if I have a humor blog I’m eventually going to write about monkeys, right?  I mean, what’s funnier than monkeys?  And what’s more FUN than a whole barrel of them, right?

          But I’ve been thinking (sometimes a risky venture, but stay with me). The phrase, more fun than a barrel of monkeys has actually been around for more than a century.  And Milton Bradley even came up with a game by that name in the 1960s, implying lots of fun for anyone who played it. 

          But would a barrel of monkeys actually be fun?  Do you know anyone—anyone at all—who has filled their home with monkeys, because, doggone it, what could be more fun than that?

          I know one guy who had one monkey, and of course it’s St. Bob.  When he was young—and I mean seriously young, as in high school—he hosted a cartoon show on television.  

          From there he hosted talk shows, then game shows, and the rest is on Wikipedia.  BUT… when still living in Lake Charles, Louisiana, he had adoptable animals on his cartoon show from time to time and decided to bring a monkey home, himself.  It came with a cage, and Bob put it in his bedroom.

          Soon Bob’s father came home from work.  And one thing that’s universal—at least for monkeys—is the alpha male thing, whether you live in Louisiana or India or Costa Rica.  So when Bob’s father walked into the bedroom to see the new addition to the family, the monkey went ballistic.

          Indelicate language coming up: The monkey began screaming and hurling excrement and peeing in every direction, as if a rotary fan were helping to distribute his opinion.  Apparently it is rather amazing how much opinion one monkey can generate.

          And soon the monkey went back to the zoo or the shelter or wherever it came from. No word on how long it took to clean up and recover from the attack, but it’s safe to say that an entire barrel of such creatures would not be as fun as advertised.

          So I looked it up.  And guess what—that phrase began as sarcasm, an ironic reference to anything NOT fun whatsoever.  Over the years, as things happen, we began using the phrase literally, assuming a bunch of monkeys would be all you need for a dang good, memorable party. 

          Well, I’ll grant you it would be memorable.   

          Instead of monkeys, buy something much cheaper, less messy, yet still fun.  How about a stack of quiet, safe books available right here?  You don’t need to feed them or clean up after them,  just store them on a shelf.  Easy, peasy, my friends.