12/7/2004 - All I Want For Christmas

I want a monkey for Christmas. I remember being a kid and begging for a monkey for Christmas. It didn't make any sense that I couldn't get one. We could buy dogs and cats, but not monkeys.

I pictured having this monkey as a sort of goofy family member. He could sit in a high chair while we ate.

"Monkey?"
"WeeAAH!"
"Would you like some toast?"
"WeeAAH!"
"With peanut butter?"
"WeeOO! Oo! Oo! AHK! AHK!"
"We don't have jam."

I pictured the monkey helping around the house, just like one of Ellie Mae's critters.

"Monkey, go fetch my hat!"
Monkey playfully jumps and swings out of the room, and returns a moment later looking adorable in my hat. He vaults up on my shoulder, and places the hat upon my head.
"Who loves his monkey," I query as we make kissy faces.

This was my childhood innocence. Nothing could go wrong. Could it be that the world famous American Productivity is built upon our wild-eyed innocence? Our belief that what we see in movies and on TV is realistic and achievable, and therefore we find ourselves working towards these things.

I used to see movies with monkeys and think, "When I'm older, I'm going to buy a monkey, and then my life will be a laugh riot."

"Monkey!"
"WeeAAAAH!"
"Is this your poop thrown against the wall, " I ask sternly.
Cue the music that plays on Let's Make A Deal when "what's behind door number 2" turns out to be a goat. Whah-whah-whah-whaaaaaaah. Monkey makes as sad of a face as a monkey can make. Laugh track chuckles and then goes "awwww."
"Oh, who could stay mad at such a goofy son-of-a-bitch. C'mere, you damned monkey."
The audience starts laughing and clapping. We freeze frame on our faces together, cheek to cheek, as The A-Team theme starts playing. Roll credits. As the credits roll and the theme plays, the following images are shown:
- Monkey and I jumping out of an exploding building.
- A mugger with a knife pulled on me, and monkey dangling from a fire escape while holding a gun to the mugger's head, with a satisfied smirk on my face and a "holy hell" look on the mugger's.
- Monkey and I tandem parasailing, intently surveying the ground below for evildoers.
- Me pointing to some monkey poop on the refrigerator door, other hand on my hip, and Monkey looking at the floor in shame.
- Monkey and I holding hands on the beach at sunset.

HA! "Who loves his monkey?" That is my new catch phrase. It embodies my unrealistic, naive dreams that have been shattered by the same world that encouraged them, and my foolish attempts to hang on to these dreams by creating my own reality. Deep.