MONKEY BIZ – Yank My Chain

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“The monkey never learns” and I am that monkey.  Not knowing a damn thing about diesels or how they work, I bought one. 

Not knowing how to wire this, or splice that, the old monkey (nicknames I prefer instead of Nigga or Fool, which seems to be more prevalent in today’s society) this Old Monkey rushed out and purchased a volt meter, a box of shrink connectors and a crimper.  And the list goes on, tires, batteries, relays, brake systems, water pumps, poop-eaters, inverters, right on down to lug nuts.

All of it a new learning curve. 

Gorilla #

Eyes wide open and at times with a clear and lucid mind, I jumped right into the Bus World.  At best it has been an experience, an education of sorts, and a wake up call for me (would even venture to say for most of us).  In my case, some of it turned out well, some of it, not so good.

Gorilla #2

Someone else this week said,

“You do your thing and I will do mine.  If they cannot deal with it, that is their problem.” 

Which is how this monkey see’s it.  The monkey jerks on the string, and the pellet drops into the bowl.  The monkey doesn’t care who it is that drops the pellet, he just wants the pellet.

It makes no difference to him who it is, as long as there is a treat in the bowl, after he pulls the chord and rings the bell. That is all that really matters to him, other than that, he could honestly care. Some call it the “KISS” principle, “Keep it simple stupid.” 

Gorilla #3

So yesterday, I put the theory to the test.  After showering and shaving, I waltzed into the room, looked at her and said:  “Here you go baby, all squeaky clean, fresh as a Daisy, today I will be your Cat-Nip of life!”

She then looked me square in the eye and said, “Oh, that explains this hairball I feel in my throat?  Thanks.”

Yoko

As I said before … The Monkey NEVER learns.

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2 thoughts on “MONKEY BIZ – Yank My Chain

  1. This January 29th, me ‘n my bride will celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary; probably together methinks. I can attest that both of us have experienced days like you’ve described DS !
    Your description of being “squeeky” clean reminded me of that old joke where the wife slips into the bedroom in something very, very shiek, and revealing, and the husband says: What party ya goin’ to Batman?

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