Monkeys Do the Darnedest Things!

There is something going on in the world of British journalism lately. Something scary. Something called "poor journalism."

Exhibit A

My favorite bits from the article:

The monkey named Brother Kwan, who killed his owner by throwing a coconut at his head

"The animal – named Brother Kwan – found the work tedious and strenuous but Mr Janchoom refused to let him rest, dishing out beatings if he refused to climb trees."

Really? How do you know Brother Kwan 'found the work tedious and strenuous,' journalist? Is that what he said when you interviewed him? What else did he have to say? Anything about me? A solution to the global financial crisis, perhaps? A recipe for an antidote to mankind's innate greed? I'd love to read through the transcripts of your interview tapes some day. Asshole.

"The dead man's wife said that the monkey had "seemed lovable" when they bought him for £130."

GBP130? How many fucking coconuts did this poor monkey have to pull down each day--at 4p each, street value (which seems cheap)--to earn his keep, once costs for his food, booze, and patent-leather shoe fetish are also taken into account? No wonder he killed the guy.

As for a chimpanzee mentioned in the article, Santino, who spent most of his free time over the last twelve years wisely gathering well-shaped projectiles to hurl at useless people who pay money to gawk at him:

"Scientists believe [Santino's] behaviour is the strongest proof yet that humans are not the only creatures which can make plans for the future."

Huh? What about all the animals that store up fat for hibernation? What about all the animals who gather up stores of food for the winter? What about all the animals who fly/swim/march their way back to breeding grounds for booty and procreation?

Such vague statements will not stand, man; they will not stand. Can we get no more details on why these scientists would make such an outrageous claim? Really, I could stand it; I could tolerate at least...four more lines of this article, maybe even forty. Because maybe there is a good explanation for it, but you didn't give it to me. This article kind of did.

Exhibit B

What is the cure for this poor-journalism illness ravaging London?

Shit, I don't know--I'm not a doctor, thankfully, since I've never met a happy one. So...ask somebody else who is--but not the drunk ones, or the ones in the pocket of the pharmaceutical industry. Wait--on second thought, before you go, I might as well hazard a guess, partly because I might be your best option, mostly in case it winds up being right: kill all suspected infected, salt the earth beneath them.

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