Category Archives: Uncategorized

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“Ursine Spring” Begins

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

Got very excited about this video where a family of bears (my people!) confuses a bunch of tourists (your people!) on a bridge at Yellowstone National Park in Montana.

This is a great moment for bears everywhere, because it can mark the beginning of a change in the way people think about us!

Some decided the bears were chasing the people.

Others saw the bears as being frightened and cornered.

But I think these bears are starting a revolution, taking it to the next level in bear-human interactions. They’re stepping it up so we can become more like the animals I really admire – Border Collies!

Yes!

Border Collies rock because they can get those sheep to do just what they want them to do just by running circles around them, which believe it or not, we bears are fast enough to do.

And you can tell from the Yellowstone video that all those people with the cameras are feeling sheepish. They know they’re not where they’re supposed to be.

They WANT to be in the corral.  They DESERVE to be in the corral.

Plus, Border Collies are dignified, lovable, respected, and recognized by everyone as being super-smart. That’s my dream for bears – that we can have that kind of status.

And at least two meals a day, which sheepdogs also get as part of the deal!

Let the revolution begin!

Your trusted, capable friend,
Bart

I think Bart is hallucinating, or the wild berries have both ripened and fermented at the same moment. The Yellowstone bears are frightened and Bart is no sheepdog. But we all can dream!

What animal do you most admire?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’m an older person who enjoys his simple pleasures. I cherish my freedom to “live large.” I figure I’ve earned my leisure time. No one is the boss of me and every minute of every day is pretty much spoken for. I guard my schedule of planned relaxation quite jealously.

Sitting in front of the TV with a beer a jar of nuts is one thing I really enjoy. I know it’s not particularly healthy, but I view physical exertion the same way some people look at paying taxes – I don’t do it unless forced, and then with plenty of complaining.

I don’t socialize or do things with the extended family, because that’s not really part of my routine. I start the day with light beer, dry roasted peanuts and morning news shows and slowly transition to dark, hearty beers, cashews, and police dramas.

There might be some intermittent napping in there as well.

Still, my relatives pester me about doing things to prolong my life, citing studies like this recent one that claims people could live five years longer if they would just do three hours of “moderate” exercise every week.

I don’t doubt that any of this is true, but do the math – that’s six full, 24-hour days of exercise each year. And let’s assume you get your five year “extension”. You’d have to continue this exhausting habit to stay alive – no coasting. Six times five is thirty. You’d be stuck doing another month of exercise until the grim reaper finally allows you to quit!

In the meantime, think of all the TV that would go un-watched, the peanuts that would be uneaten, and the beer that would remain un-drunk!

Dr. Babooner, why should I change my comfortable and abundant lifestyle just to spend more time (literally) on a treadmill?

Largely,
Bud Planters (not my real name)

I told Bud Planters (not my real name) that his “routine” is actually a steep downward spiral but he’s free to live five years less than he might if that’s his preference. But I couldn’t figure out two things.

  1. How did the mental fog lift long enough for him to do the math on excise and write this letter?
  2. How did he wind up with relatives who care whether he’s around an extra five years or not?

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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No Post Today

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At least one baboon was alarmed at the apparent absence of a post yesterday, though she relaxed when I pointed out to her that it was located at The Baboondocks.

But it reminded me how we skate so close to the edge here at Trail Baboon.  The daily post (with Sundays off) is such a relied-upon accessory, one must wonder what might happen if the post didn’t materialize.

Like today.

Yes, because yesterday was such a busy day, I decided late last night that I simply wouldn’t be able to post today.  I was exhausted and  I was all too aware that this morning would bring a day-long chore that cannot be postponed.

My apologies, baboons.   Time ran out.

I briefly thought about quickly writing a post about how there was no post, hoping you’d catch the irony of it and my laziness would seem like inspiration.  You’d be mildly amused, and I’d get away with an easy win.

But I quickly realized you’d see right through that gimmick. Besides, I just don’t have it in me.  Lying takes energy!

So please forgive me for falling down on the job this time.  I hate to deliver less than a sub-par performance, but occasionally events conspire to create failures and disappointments.

No post today!

What th?

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Words To The Woods

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a cell phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

Out of hibernation for sure now, and looking for food. Still a little early, though.  SO HUNGRY waiting for the berries to arrive.

The fishing opener is good, ’cause stuff gets left on shore. Sometimes chips and even burgers and hot dogs and stuff like that!  Drunk fishermen are the best kind.  Bears and fish say so!

But you can’t count on people to leave food out.  In July, yes.  Not so much in May.

That’s why I got excited to see this article about self-publishing and how there’s a lot of great opportunities to make extra $$ as a book editor.

All writers need a smart, caring, sometimes brutal, roaring rage-filled editor.  And I’m a pretty good one!  You wouldn’t expect it – me with the big paws and doing all my writing on a smart phone.  But that means I’m always cutting words.  Most writers generate a ton of blah-blah-blah that needs to be gobbled up!

Yes, I’m a Nounatarian and a Verbivore.

And it’s all done online, so you don’t have to worry about making a face-to-face impression on your clients if you have bad breath or don’t look very professional or you happen to be a wild animal who lives alone in the woods .

Some writers complain that with self-publishing, the freelance market has been flooded by unqualified people claiming to be editors and proofreaders.

Maybe so.  I’m not going to dwell on it, though.   Here’s my deal.  I edit your book, you don’t have to pay me in money.  Just ship a loosely secured bag of groceries to a campground address I’ll send you once I get your manuscript.   That’s all there is to it!

Maybe your book is good.  If so, my job is easy and your big payday still comes.  But if your book is an aimless, pointless mess, it can hardly hurt things to slap a sticker on that cover that says “Edited By A Wild Bear!”

Your pal,
Bart

How are you at proofreading?

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The Peculiar Physics of Pirate Fame

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Today’s post comes from Captain Billy, the skipper of the pirate ship Muskellunge.

Ahoy!

Me an’ me boys is appalled that a famed “marine archaeologist”, named Barry Clifford, says he discovered th’ lost treasure of th’ notorious pirate, Captain Kidd.

Clifford has been lookin’ fer th’ wreck o’ Kidd’s vessel, th’ Adventure Galley, fer 15 years.  An’ now he finally claims he found it  off’n th’ coast o’ Madagascar.

This may be, but what of it?  It ain’t in the realm of imagination that a fella named Barry Clifford could ever make a dent in the legend of a alpha pirate like William Kidd.

No matter which name he uses, whether “Capt. Barry” or “Capt. Clifford”, neither one is intimidatin’ enough t’ strike fear into th’ hearts of his crew an’ his adversaries.

But then up from down below he brings a big bar o’ silver an’ lays it in front o’ th’ Madigascar president sayin’, “this here booty, what used t’ belong t’ Capt. Kidd,  is now  yours.  It belongs t’ th’ Madigascar people.  Meanwhile, I’ll take the fame what comes wi’ finding it.”

But me an’ me boys says  Clifford’s gambit is full o’ holes, on account of he don’t understand th’ peculiar physics of pirate fame.

  1. Pirate fame don’t ever transfer t’ non-pirates.
  2. A halo of pirate fame surrounds any booty stolen by th’ aforementioned pirate.
  3. That halo magnifies the value o’ the booty many times over, an’ also makes it completely useless.

Th’ undeniable fact o’ th’ matter is that th’ treasure will always be known as Capt. Kidd’s Silver , no matter who is holdin’ it.  An as such, it will always be more valuable an’ interestin’ than an identical amount of silver held by, say, Warren Buffet.

An’ also as such, it can’t never be cashed in fer anything else on account of you can’t buy nothin’ wi’ it that’s as valuable as th’ moment when yer able t’ point at it an’ say, “That there’s Capt. Kidd’s treasure.”

Therefore, me an’ me boys respectfully suggests that Barry Clifford hand th’ treasure over t’ some REAL  LIFE modern day pirates – th’ only sorts in the whole wide world what can take proper care an’ withstand th’ pirate fame what has accrued t’ this particular collection of precious metals.

An’ yes, we has some candidates in mind!

Helpfully,
Capt. Billy

When you find something of value, how hard do you look for its rightful owner?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I bet pretty much all my life savings on the three principal names I thought Britain’s Royal couple would give their new daughter. In my defense, it felt like I was really on to something when I entered the office pool with  “Mayweather Tesla Skywalker”.

A lot of people were trying to second-guess William and Catherine on this, analyzing their public statements and debating each other on Facebook to get some kind of a crucial advantage in knowing which way the couple leaned, baby name-wise.

But Wills and Kate are my favorite royals precisely because they’re so normal.  I figure they’re probably thinking about the same things I am most of the time, so I went with my gut, which was totally wrapped up in the big fight on Saturday night between Floyd and Manny.

I knew that everybody else knew that Mayweather was going to win, so why gamble on that when I could go All In on something that had a much higher chance of delivering a mammoth payoff?

Imagine my surprise when they came up with Charlotte Elizabeth Diana – a totally predictable and profoundly uninspiring choice.

For my money, “Princess Mayweather” is very British-sounding and would have become a much-beloved name.   Much more beloved than Princess Floyd, Princess Paquiao, or Princess Manny, which were some of my other choices.

Now all my money’s gone, but if that bet had come in, I’d be richer than everyone.  No exceptions!

Dr. Babooner, why can’t dreams come true?

Sincerely,
Long Shot

I told “Long Shot” there’s a distinct difference between investing in a genuine dream and throwing away your life savings on some crazy idea you pulled out of a dark crevice.

A dream is inspirational, especially if it includes an element of self-betterment and rises out of a desire to improve the world. But guessing that the royals would decide to call their daughter ‘Mayweather Tesla Skywalker” is flat-out crazy.

But it’s better that you were parted from your cash in this picturesque way. At least you got a good story out of it, and you were going to lose that money anyhow. It was simply a matter of time.

But that’s just on opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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The “You” in Menu

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Header Image: “Culex sp larvae” by (Image: James Gathany, CDC)  Licensed under CC BY 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons.

Today’s post comes from marketing maven Spin Williams, who is always in residence at The Meeting That Never Ends.

One of the top restaurant marketing trends of 2015 is locally sourced, organic foods.

If it’s local, people are fascinated. Why? Because a lot of them have no idea food can be grown nearby. That all connects to the concept of going “out” for dinner, which the baby boomers learned to think of as an exotic treat when they were growing up in the hardscrabble 1940’s and ’50’s.

“Out” was always a better place to get a meal than at boring old “in”, where mom was likely to serve up the same gray meatloaf or chicken hotdish again tonight.

“Out” might bring you an exotic choice like chicken wings, or at least the chance to have a milk shake with your meal.  The chances of that went way up if dad ordered a beer.

The message to impressionable youngsters of that era – the farther “out” you went, the better the meal.

But yesterday as we were going over the latest science stories at The Meeting That Never Ends we saw this bit of research about how mosquitoes choose who they’ll bite.  The clear indication is that the little pointy-nosed critters are lured by something genetic that is shared among families!

The assumption here is that it’s a fundamental element of body odor.   Identical twins were found to be equally attractive to the tiny bloodsuckers of summer.

A couple of great marketing ideas quickly came out of this.

My favorite – identify particularly scrumptious bloodlines and present them as “decoy guests” for hire at high-buck summertime parties. If we know mosquitoes love those Johnsons, or just can’t get enough of the Herrera sisters, hire them to draw the swarms away from the more important invitees.

The downside?

Having to segregate the bait people from the rest, and possible lawsuits over West Nile Virus.

But then we realized something else – if we completely disregard the scientific method and turn this research on its head, it could be an early indication that the reverse is true and people also have genetic predispositions to like certain foods!

For restaurateurs, that means there is this tantalizing future scenario – when guests arrive they check in at the hostess stand and are given a quick DNA test to determine their pre-ordained dining tendencies.

That person then receives a menu tailored to their genetic food preference profile! Imagine – a restaurant that could hand you a menu where you’ll like absolutely EVERYTHING!

Would you go there?

Of course you would, as long as your family doesn’t also have an inherent fussiness over things like genetic privacy.

Our bet is that most people will be perfectly fine with it, and the establishment could also work some side agreements with marketing firms to get a secondary income on the data!

Yes, we realize that people get particularly overwrought about misuse of personal information. But for the most part, when our data is harvested we don’t even know about it, so the pain is nearly invisible.

The only obvious downside we see for consumers in this would be a tendency for restaurants with outdoor seating to put especially tasty people in a separate area, to draw away the attention of any needle-nosed intruders!

Yours in Marketing,
Spin

Do you come from an especially flavorful family?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’m not a bad person, but I’ve had trouble in my life that has everything to do with the inappropriate places where my arms, and to be more exact, my hands, wind up.

I won’t go into too much detail here, but it has been brought to the attention of law enforcement by several people (shopkeepers, women I’ve known, and women I haven’t known), that my mitts tend to violate certain legal and ethical boundaries.

Usually I say something like “I didn’t realize I was doing it.  That hand has a mind of its own!”

And usually that explanation is rejected as just so much bunk.

But now, there’s scientific evidence that the octopus has smart arms that really do work independently of the central brain!

Dr. Babooner, this news gives me hope.  If mind-of-their-own appendages can be a real thing for hideous deep-sea creatures, isn’t there a possibility that I suffer from the same condition?

I’d like to start an emotional support group for people with Octo-digititis, a term I just made up to describe those whose fingers are autonomous and unprincipled.  I know this might be a tough sell, but if you were to sign on as an adviser, it might give us the heft we need to be taken seriously as an afflicted community.

Would you consider it?  Name your price.  Given enough time and the opportunity, I’m pretty sure I could get my hands on whatever it takes to convince you to join our cause.

Confidentially,
Groper Lightfingers

I told ” Groper Lightfingers” that Dr. Babooner does not lend her “heft” to any cause, especially not one which is simply a glorified excuse for poor behavior. Blaming the newly revealed mechanics of octopus locomotion for your trouble is an insult to cephalopods everywhere. Octopi are social creatures with “smart” arms, while your out-of-control extremities are clearly anti-social and exceedingly dumb.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

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Kids vs. Dogs

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Today’s post comes from Trail Baboon’s Living and Loving Correspondent B. Marty Barry.   He’s a bottomless well of wellness!

Yes, it’s my life’s work to be there for people when they need to talk.

And once we get past the preliminaries and start to explore hidden areas that are truly and deeply painful, my clients will ask me why their children are not as sociable as their dogs.

There is a great deal of guilt and anguish here, because people just naturally feel responsible for how their kids turn out.  They believe that it should be more pleasant to hang out with Timmy or Susie than it is to spend the afternoon sitting by the fire with Sparky.

After all, children have the ability to speak an understandable language and hold conversations.  They can tell stories and jokes.  They’ve got  the higher brain functions to enjoy and create art.  There are all sorts of enjoyable pastimes that are family-friendly.

Meanwhile, dogs shed, have bad breath, and poop in the yard.

It should be no contest!

My clients feel terrible about preferring their dogs to their kids.  When I ask them to tell me more, I usually hear that the children are sullen and self-absorbed.  They barely speak and only interact with their electronic devices.  And they almost never make eye contact with another person, especially not their parents.

The dogs, on the other hand, are enthusiastic and playful, unless you’ don’t want to play.  If that’s the case, then they’re patient and attentive, but quiet.  And eye contact is a canine specialty – they do it constantly, with intensity and love.   Unless you’re holding a treat, in which case they watch you with joy and anticipation.  But dogs are always totally OK with whatever you want to do.

Once I get them talking along these lines, people eventually realize they are unfairly judging the children because no human can compete with a good dog for sociability.

I always take note of the children’s names.  Someday they may need to talk deeply about how they resented Brandy’s easygoing relationship with mom and dad.

And now academia has decided to address dog cognition.  Look at these programs!

What this means is that now those same sullen, uncommunicative children who were less engaging than Fido can someday leave home, go off to school, and run up $300,000 in college debt watching  a dog, which is basically the same thing you did, for free, while they were away.

But if this scientific research bears fruit and we are better able to understand the level of awareness of dogs, maybe it will open up a whole new range of opportunities for people like me.  Getting dogs to talk would be a world-changer.  After all, I can only guess the emotional toll it takes on old Buster to know that he is, and always will be, the favored child.   

Who was your parents’ favorite? 

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A Focus on Faces

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Today’s post comes from Bubby Spamden, a perennial sophomore at Wendell Willkie High School.

Hey Mr. C.,

Now that it’s spring and all, people at Willkie have really started to talk seriously about what jobs they want to have when they’re all graduated from school.

This is the thing that our parents keep telling us we should think about all the time, but they must not remember being fifteen at all because there is so much more to worry about – really important stuff like “was Ashley looking at me this morning over the top of her book?” and “do I have something gross stuck to my face?”

Anyway, there are lots of people who want to be movie stars and rock stars and sports stars, like that’s really a thing you can be. And then there are the more practical ones, who say they want to be accountants and engineers and software coders.

But I saw something the other day that I thought would be a really cool job and I totally didn’t know anybody could do this – I want to be a face researcher so I can spend my time thinking about really important questions like why do we have chins?

I didn’t carefully read the article where I saw this because it was so long! (I want to spend my time looking at faces, not fighting my way through all those words, words, words!) But I think I get the basics.

Humans have chins because evolution is making our faces shrink!

Wow!  Yes! It turns out our chins are slower to change than the rest of our heads when it comes to right-sizing, evolution-style. That’s weird!

So I want to find a University somewhere that has a major in Body Part Studies.

I think that would be incredibly cool because that’s sort of what everybody does in college anyway, but I’d be getting credit for it! And we’ll need more trained body part experts, because everything is changing.

I figure evolution is going to keep doing its thing. So the human face of the future will probably have even less chin, and this will mean huge changes in everything, especially in professional sports like horse racing and the NFL where they have to use chin straps to keep their hats on.

Enter me, the Highly Esteemed Face Researcher!

As America’s top face scholar, I’ll have plenty of work to do, giving my opinion about faces of all kinds!  I’d love to do the American version of a contest they had in Britain a few years ago to find the Most Beautiful Face.  Florence Colgate, call me!

And if my focus on the face doesn’t pan out, I’ll just shift my research to another body part that’s getting more attention.

I hear booties are big, but not big enough!

Your pal,
Bubby

Even though I’m extremely reluctant to discourage the dreams of the young, I told Bubby I’m skeptical that he’ll be able to assemble the right credentials to ascend to the post of America’s Leading Face Researcher. After all, it’s hard to become recognized as an expert in anything when every other person already thinks they’re an expert in the same field.

Kind of like being a writer in Hollywood.

But at least he’s showing a hunger for knowledge, as long as it doesn’t require too much reading.

In what area would you like to gain some expertise?