In celebration of the end of an overall suck-y year, it occurs to me to pass down to you, fair reader, this important technique—just in case you find yourownself shipwrecked or otherwise stranded on a desert island; to wit—How To Catch A Monkey For Fun & Profit!
Now—I know what you’re thinking: “Dick—why in the name of sufferin’ Jesus Christ hisownself would *I* ever want to catch a monkey”?
Pay attention; here’s the story, straight from Dear Old Dad to me, and now to you: Dad clocked a coupla years’ “vacation” on Okinawa back in the 40’s—if you know what I mean and I think you DO. He told me that the day they landed on that ball o’ mud, it was virtually a beautiful tropical paradise; when they left, there wasn’t a single blade of grass left! But I digress.
One drunken evening when Pops was in a “talkative mood” (the sum total of which I can count on both hands and give you some change back), he related (and of course took FULL credit for) this technique for how he and his platoon caught monkeys: “You take a half pint glass “cream bottle” (Sidebar—this was back when the milkman DELIVERED milk/cream to your DOOR—you had a galvanized steel box on your doorstep—you’d leave “the empties” inside at night, go out in the AM, and Voila—glass bottles of milk and cream waiting for you!) fill it with nuts/berries, tie it with ~12″ of rope to the base of a tree, and remember where you left it.
A monkey—heretofor referred to as “The Victim”—would see/smell those fine treats, sidle on over to “the trap”, stick his/her paw inside, grab a pawful of nuts/figs/raisins, and TRY to pull his full paw out—not gonna happen! The Victim was too greedy or too dumb to let go of its treasure, so the next day, when Dad would return—The Victim would be (angrily) waiting!
Dad would throw a burlap bag over the poor dumb bastard, untie the bottle from the tree, and haul him/her back to camp. He would then put The Victim in a makeshift cage and offer it some nuts or a piece of fruit—then and ONLY then would the monkey release its greedy grip on the treasures in the bottle.
If it was a young female monkey, the boys would often be able to domesticate her into a fine pet—Dad said that w/in 3 months, about a dozen of his squad had pet monkeys! If it was a male monkey and/or an older monkey, there WAS no domesticating it—so they killed it, skinned it, put it on a spit, cooked it, and ATE it (tastes like chicken?)…
So there you have it—some practical info from Dear Old Dad to Dick Jones to you—givin’ some news a Brutha/Sista can USE; now go and do likewise!