by John Moe
In all my previous iterations over the course of centuries, people make this connection and run me from town, using pitchforks, muskets, rocks, whatever is the weapon of choice during that historical period.
It is best that I leave now in order that I may give Milwaukeeans at least a reasonable chance of not losing high percentages of their population to sexually transmitted disease. I beseech you to acquire penicillin posthaste.
Yours,
Othurfonzireeli
Syphilitic Wizard
THE DIARY OF
The Man with the Yellow Hat
(friend of Curious George)
October 12
Now I have a monkey! Imagine me, a humble man, living alone in an apartment in some city somewhere, now the owner of a monkey. Me, a guy who wears the same yellow suit every single day. Me, a guy who wears a tall yellow hat for no reason at all, a hat that doesn’t even fit the classification of any other kind of hat. Me, a man without a name. And I got a monkey. The details of how are not important right now! Hooray! I’m sure everything will work out fine.
October 13
I’m calling the monkey “George.” Why the hell not? Are you saying I shouldn’t, diary? You want to fight me? I’m strong. I’m a strong man in a yellow hat and I can kick a book like you and you can’t kick back.
October 20
I had thought it would be a big lifestyle change, having a monkey. A lot of responsibility, taking care of this young, vulnerable life that depends on me for everything. Not so! See, I have a lot of errands to run every day. Meaningless stuff, really, since as an unemployed single man with no visible interests I don’t have anything important going on. So I go chart the fluctuations of the price of wood screws at the hardware store, inspect the sidewalk for fresh cracks, write down where in the city a helicopter could land, yell at some plants.
The point is: I’m on the move. I can’t stay long anywhere. And I can’t imagine taking my monkey with me everywhere or barely anywhere I go. Turns out I don’t have to! For instance, today. I took George out for ice cream at a local ice cream parlor. Then I decided I wanted to leave and go do other stuff for a while, but NOT with George. I left him there and told him not to cause trouble because in my mind that would work.
I returned an hour later to find him serving up ice cream to a lot of customers, much to the delight of everyone there, including the owner! The owner told me that there was a difficult period in the middle where George, being a monkey only recently taken from the jungle against his will, just about destroyed the whole establishment. I’m not sure I believe that since I TOLD George to behave before I left. I wonder what country that ice cream guy was from.
Anyway, if George is serving ice cream and everyone’s happy, where’s the harm? In the end, everyone wins.
I didn’t bother telling the store owner how monkeys fling their own poo, and George is certainly no exception when it comes to that. George usually has at least some monkey feces on his hands at any given time. But everyone seemed so amused, why ruin the fun?
November 18
Starting to think again about getting a name for myself. Maurice? Ed? Studebaker Jones? The Clam? Ah, but if I got a name, then I would probably need to get legal identification, and a job, and some responsibilities. No thanks. I don’t want your rules, society. Do people with names ever wear the same bright yellow outfit every day? I don’t think so. I’m not falling into those traps OR ANY TRAPS.
December 4
I dropped George off at the toy store. My reasoning: he likes toys. Because he’s kind of like a boy. I mean he can’t talk and he doesn’t wear clothes, and is not a human. So there’s that. But he exhibits a child’s wonder at the world before him. So toy store it was! I had to go run some errands—touch every car in the parking lot, yell at panhandlers, sample soup from five different restaurants, and then not buy any—but when I returned a couple of hours later, everything seemed okay. The toy store was kind of trashed but George was entertaining the kids with his fun-loving antics. The store owner seemed mostly happy but kept asking if I often leave George alone in private businesses for extended periods of time. “YES,” I said, “I DO.”
Sales seemed brisk.
December 25
George has noticed people spending time with their families at Christmas. He almost seems like he misses the other monkeys back in the jungle. Do monkeys have families? Or emotions, even? Oh well, doesn’t matter, he belongs to me. He’s my monkey. Myyyyyyy monkey.
I wonder what my parents are doing now. I wonder who they were or why they didn’t give me a name. I don’t really remember much before about six months ago.
I have a monkey!
January 14
George got to go with a bus full of school children to a museum today! It was very exciting for him, I think, probably. Monkeys are pretty stupid but I still hope he had a good time, which makes me a great guy.
The way he got to go was kind of fun. I was out walking around the city with George, trying to find a new place to leave him for a couple of hours. I saw some kids getting on a school bus and I approached the teacher in charge.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To the museum,” she said, trying to get away from me.
“TAKE MY MONKEY! He’s as good as any other child and has the same rights. Take my monkey with you on the bus.”
“No. Please leave us alone.”
“TAKE HIM. YOU HAVE TO. HE’S LIKE A CHILD.” And while she ran on the bus and closed the door, I shoved George on to the bus through an open window in the back.
I guess he ended up delighting a lot of people at the museum! And he also ruined several exhibits by ripping them apart and/or pooping on them.
I bet it was a good educational opportunity for everyone because they learned that:
1. George is like a child.
2. Monkeys.
3. I was right.
February 3
The Army recruiting center wouldn’t accept George into the Army. I thought it would teach George some toughness and also how to use a gun. What’s worse is that they didn’t even let me drop him off there for a few hours while I went and gathered a thousand pine cones. Fascists! I am going to burn a flag and some buildings once I get around to it.
March 30
I tried something new tonight. See, I’ve run out of places to drop George off during the day; lots of places have banned us. They sometimes call the cops but I can’t give the cops an ID or even a name because I have none. They just let me go. Tonight, I dropped George off with a group of intravenous drug users who hang out at the park. Then I went home and just watched TV for a couple of hours. I love shows! As always, I told him not to get into mischief.
I came back and found that not only did all the junkies love him but that he had killed a particularly abusive dealer! George had blood all over his hands and a terrified but VERY angry look on his face. That George, always making the best of a situation.
Maybe I should get him a hat!
January 23, 1986
Colleagues,
We have what we all agree is a GREAT product in Teen Spirit brand deodorant. It goes on easy and keeps girls feeling fresh and confident for hours at a time. It comes in a variety of scents like Orchard Blossom, Caribbean Cool, and California Breeze. All of us believe in what we’re doing here. Our challenge in the marketing department is getting those teens out there to know about what we’re offering. Not just so we can sell deodorant, but so that we can make lives better.
But times are changing, my friends. It’s the eighties! Teens aren’t just going to listen to some commercial. They’re going to listen to what they always listen to: rock ’n’ roll music. Especially now that MTV is so popular, with Boy George, Billy Idol, Lionel Richie, and the like.
I’m proposing a bold new marketing strategy that will require a major commitment from all of us but mostly, I dare say, from me.
Here’s what would happen:
• I mo
ve to Aberdeen, Washington, and enroll as a high school student. We all know that I’m very youthful in appearance so I don’t think I’ll be caught. I can hire some actors to play my family. The “Kurt Cobain” that people will meet will be sullen, sensitive, and musical. I’ve been practicing my guitar playing quite a bit already.
• I befriend other musicians and form a band, and we grow in popularity. During this time, I must also take a lot of drugs so no one will suspect anything. I expect this incubation period to last about five years.
• When this band is poised to hit the big time, I introduce a song about Teen Spirit deodorant. I’ll call it “I Smelled Teen Spirit” or “Here Comes Teen Spirit” or “That Fresh and Clean Teen Spirit Smell.” Something like that.
• Since writing a real masterpiece of a jingle takes time, I’ve already been working on some of the lyrics for the song. I’m emphasizing several key qualities of Teen Spirit:
• It’s great to wear out to movies and concerts. Just put it on and you’re like, “I’m here now with all my friends! Entertain us!”
• It’s perfect for any kind of teen girl: mulatto, albino, whatever!
• Wearing Teen Spirit is a great way to greet the world and say hello! Or even, hello hello hello hello! Four times? Sure! That’s the confidence of a Teen Spirit girl!
Now, I want to assure you that once the song is a hit, I will return to my position here at the company as quickly as possible. What could go wrong?
Your colleague,
Kurt Cobain
Marketing Manager
DON DRAPER’S COCKTAIL RECIPE NOTE CARDS
Drapertini
4 ounces gin
1 ounce vermouth
3 olives
5 tears that I never shed as a boy
Shake, stir, then pour down the sink because those days can never return.
Draper Manhattan
2 ounces bourbon
1 ounce vermouth
1 dash of aromatic bitters
3 dashes of bitterness about my own need to hurt everyone who loves me
2 scrapes of the grime from that apartment I had after Betty and I split
1 maraschino cherry
Pour contents over ice into a glass, catch your own distorted reflection in the ice for a moment, and wonder who you are or who anyone is really, sit in chair.
Milkreem
4 ounces Brylcreem hair grease
4 ounces milk
Blend and serve, look great.
Sidetrack Sidecar
2 ounces cognac
1 ounce triple sec
1 ounce lemon juice
1 photograph of each of my three children
1 photograph of each semi-formed character from my secret past (check bottom dresser drawer)
1 orange slice
Sit and wonder how as we grow old we take on responsibility for others, but not out of love, not really. It’s more just to feel that these lives we lead are more permanent than they actually are. We love other people, we MAKE other people, and it’s all to postpone thinking about the cold fact that ultimately we are alone. Because those people all leave. They die, they grow up, they drift away. And you’re left alone. As you were the whole time, really, which is the terrible, unbearable truth. The tragic coda to this grim play we’ve all been watching. As you think about that, you should begin to sweat with fear of the abyss.
Scrape off that sweat and put it in a glass.
Throw glass against the wall.
The Cool Demeanor
(office drink)
3 tranquilizers
1 cup of hot coffee
1 ounce dread
Drink and then let cup fall out of your hand and shatter on the linoleum floor. Leave ceramic shards for secretary on duty to clean up.
White Soviet
(Draper version of White Russian)
1 ounce vodka
½ ounce coffee liqueur
1 ounce heavy cream
4 split atoms
Pour into a glass and gaze out the window with certainty that the Soviets will push that button one of these days and all of this—the job, the women, the illusion of your own identity—will vanish in a flash of light. Be comforted and make another one.
Draper Greyhound
2 ounces vodka
5 ounces grapefruit juice
Pour over ice into cocktail glass.
Go have sex with some lady.
DEPARTMENT OF BEHAVIORAL MANAGEMENT
THE OCEAN INCIDENT REPORT
DATE: 15 April 1912
NAME: Icy the Iceberg, I guess? I don’t know, are we supposed to have names?
OTHER PARTIES: The Titanic
LOCATION OF INCIDENT: North Atlantic
ICEBERGS INJURED: Me
ICEBERGS SUNK: None
Please describe below what happened:
Okay, a little about me to start out with. I separated from my family about two weeks ago and I’m mostly just weighing my options, trying to see if I want to become part of an ice shelf in the re-freezing process or maybe drift toward land somewhere and gouge up some sea floor before liquefying. But in the meantime, drifting. Chilling, as it were.
Now, you have to understand, this has been kind of a crazy time around here. That mild winter we had meant a lot of us lost our adherence to glaciers in Greenland. This came after years of dedicated service and strong attachment. So there are a lot of us just floating around with time on our spiky parts. Me, I was kind of ready to get out of there anyway (too many rules!) but I sensed a lot of anger among the other bergs. They didn’t always show it on the surface, but underneath you could tell there was a lot going on. Layoffs are always tough on a community and this was no exception.
Making things worse, there’s been a lot of grumbling about these “ships” we’ve seen lately. I mean, we’re not completely closed-minded. We’re not isolationists. We can put up with the occasional human trying to get from one land mass to another—our boy Leif Erickson, for instance, and his little boat going from Greenland to Canada. That was actually kind of cool and a lot of us were rooting for the little runt. But over the past few centuries, it’s been getting a little ridiculous. Bigger and bigger ships floating around like they own the place.
Look, like I said, I’m not an angry berg, but the humans have a whole classification of ship called an “Icebreaker.” When I first heard that, I thought, “Oh, that’s nice, a ship that can make a clever remark and kind of open a dialogue between ship and glacier.” Well, that’s not what that ship is there for AT ALL. My point is they’ve been pushing us around. And when someone gets pushed enough times, they are going to push back.
So anyway, sorry, back to April 14th. We get wind of this ship, the largest ship afloat in the whole world. And it’s coming our way. The name? Titanic! As in the Titans, the gigantic powerful gods that were there before the Olympian gods. Yes, I know my Greek mythology. When you’re just attached to a glacier for centuries upon centuries, you have plenty of time for academic pursuits. And I’ll tell you this: I’ve done enough studying to know what hubris looks like when it comes puffing through my waters. It looks like an enormous fucking boat.
From what I understand, a lot of bergs and ice chunks were trying to warn this Titanic to maybe veer south a little bit. Get off our turf, is what they were basically saying. They’d drift over to it and look tough (or as tough as floating ice can really look) and try to intimidate the ship, but instead the passengers would just point at the ice and remark how pretty it all looked. Some people can’t take a hint.
As the ship got closer and closer to my neck of the waters, I got to wondering, “Where is this whole ship business going? Ultimately?” Think about it: These boats start with sails and paddles, now it’s steam, what will it be next? Because I’ll tell you this, industrialization is GAME ON like a motherfucker, folks. You aren’t slowing humans down. There are factories now, there are automobiles, there are all kinds of garbage and hazardous chemicals being dum
ped in the ocean. Where is this going? Could it be out of the question that the very EXISTENCE of gigantic ice formations could be threatened one day?
I’ll tell you who isn’t threatened: humans! As a species, they are booming! The land is teeming with them! They have sex constantly and their growth goes unchecked because they have no natural predators!
I guess I just decided they should have a natural predator. Me.
I drifted into the ship’s path and waited, planning to stare the ship down long enough to make it think about things a little more and maybe leave us alone, or start recycling, or something. I’m not really sure. I was pretty mad and it was like two in the morning. What I didn’t know is that the Captain wasn’t even on duty. It was the Third Officer on the bridge and the dude didn’t know what he was doing.
When they saw me out there, the crew tried to turn to avoid me but the “Greatest Ship in the World” couldn’t, you know, TURN. Irony much, Titanic? Ha ha. I guess a lot of people died and I just really hope that this doesn’t play out in the media as “Iceberg destroys the Titanic” because THE BOAT RAN INTO ME. If you do that and you don’t have enough lifeboats and you’re just stupid, well, that’s not the berg’s fault.
Did I mean to kill them? Hard to say. I was mad, sure. I guess I didn’t NOT want to kill them? Is that good enough? Hey, I’ve never been a killer before. It doesn’t come up much for icebergs. So in that sense, it feels kind of strange to have made history. We don’t have an iceberg Broadway or iceberg Vaudeville. Guess I’m famous now.
Oh! Before I forget! There was one kind of interesting moment as all those humans were going to their watery grave. Two of them in particular, a saucy and good-looking stowaway lad and a young, high-society girl, appeared very much in love. Despite their wildly different backgrounds, they had found love, which is really all any human hopes for in this crazy world (or so I’m told). Then the ship hits me, NOT my fault, and everyone starts dying. Rose survives but Jack dies EVEN THOUGH there was plenty of room on this hunk of wall panel she was holding onto. I guess maybe that’s what the sinking of the Titanic really teaches us: Rose is completely greedy and thoughtless. Stupid Rose.
