There was a time when monkeys ruled the land. In his golden age, the ubiquitous primate conquered the big screen with Clint Eastwood and Mathew Broderick, baffled linguists by learning sign language and delighted knick-knack collectors by striking that see-no-evil-hear-no-evil-etcetera pose.
The infinitely entertaining monkey, however, is a thing of the past. It could be that the immense talents of the Jack Russell terrier, and more recently the pug, have proven too adorable a rival for the monkey. Maybe that chimp next to Will Farrell in Night at the Roxbury wasn’t silly enough? Or, I suppose, it might be that beauty killed the beast. Regardless of the reason, monkeys don’t amuse anyone anymore.
The infinite monkey theorem speculates that a monkey randomly pounding keys on a typewriter for an infinite amount of time will eventually chance upon typing the lyrics to “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” Sure, it’s not very likely, but it is possible!
Now it turns out this monkey isn’t a monkey at all, but a hilarious metaphor for an abstract device that produces a random sequence of letters. As I’m sure many computer scientists tangled up in strings have done before, we have created one of these abstract devices. We’ve challenged our monkey to make his species proud and, sooner rather than later, type up the pleasurable song lyrics. In doing so, we hope to prove that monkeys can entertain again.
Our monkey, named Ben, will type a new page of letters every tenth of a second until he gets the song lyrics correct.
Click here to check in on our typing monkey- maybe he’s done.
Getting angry at all the horrible spam that clutters up our comments section would sorta be like bitching out C-3PO. What the fuck does he care? He’s just following his program, right? Until he gets struck by lightning and starts craving input and hang time with Ally Sheedy, might as well just shrug and say, “fuck it.”
This curious bit of non-functioning spoetry (spam+poetry) came to us from Tony Hawk Cheap Cruise 49, and it wins the booby prize on name alone. I imagine THCC-49 is a butler droid with a fiber-optic mcsqueeb that rolls around on extreme cruise ships bumping into walls and spilling Jagerbulls.
- tony hawk cheap cruise Says:
June 4th, 2007 at 10:56 pmtony hawk cheap cruise 49…Hi! http://ehwallep.info/877_0.html . Thanks!…
St. Vincent is the stage name of Tulsa-born musician, Annie Clark. Rather than playing midnight sessions of Girl Talk and writing love letters to Corey Feldman/Haim as an adolescent she got into Coltrane and Tennessee Williams. These influences proved beneficial, as she now makes lovely cut-up pop music with nice words and dramatic overtones, like this one here.
What’s your favorite Tennessee Williams play/movie and why? (Ours is Night of the Iguana; we can’t get enough of belligerent, drunk Richard Burton)
My favorite movie adaptation is The Glass Menagerie. You can’t go wrong with John Malkovitch. But my favorite TW play is Sweet Bird of Youth. Ingénues can’t be ingénues forever…
Would the world be a less or more confusing place if people communicated the way they do in Mr. Williams’ plays?
The great tragedy of the real world is that too often lust, repression and the various shades of human desire are dealt with artlessly. If only Tennessee Williams were holding the giant pen in the sky…
Who wins in a battle of ultimate piety, St. Vincent de Paul or Ignatius of Loyola?
St. Vincent de Paul hands down. [Ed-We might have to agree to disagree on this one: Loyola lived in a cave for 10 months in order to purge the sins of the flesh and fasted to the point of causing permanent damage to his digestive system, St. Vincent was just a slave of the Turks.]