The Monkey King's Used Primate Emporium and Book Reviews

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Jennifer McKinght-Trontz, �The Good Citizen�s Handbook � A Guide to Proper Behavior�

Started February 18 � Finished February 19, 2003; 140 pages. Posted 26 February 2003

It�s always kind of odd for me to watch people with their brothers or sisters. There are usually small things that will set them apart in terms of behavior or music preferences and brother/sister relationships usually involve two different musical tastes or circle of friends, but there�s still a lot of things that will strike me as eerily similar.

Not with my sister and me, however. We are from different sides of the planet in nearly all regards. We don�t even look alike. I�m MUCH better looking.

She referred me to all her friends as �my weird brother.� I introduced her by saying, �this is my pink sister.� During high school, she was all decked out in pink from head to toe. I threw away my favorite Dead Kennedys shirt when it turned slightly pink in the wash. My sister cried when she didn�t get picked for the cheerleading squad. I cried when I found out my sister tried out for the cheerleading squad. She loves Disneyland. I love �Stukas Over Disneyland� by the Dickies. Even our nefarious behavior served different purposes. She shoplifted makeup on one or two occasions that I know of — I was already stealing booze from supermarkets.

Even now, after knowing her for 30 years, we�re still at the complete opposite of the spectrum. Thinking hard about it, the only things we have in common is that we�re both more than halfway bright, and we both pick the worst people in the world to date. Though even our choice in partners is completely different — first of all, she goes for males, and I pick females. But her choices usually revolve around Mormons, used car salesmen, and Republicans — I just chose girls who are absolutely psychotic.

For a long time my sister and I were at each other�s throats, and I mean that literally. Eventually we both learned to accept and even respect each other, though we still like to make the occasional dig. Despite the rule I�ve installed saying that NOBODY is to buy me books as a present for anything, my sister thought she was funny by getting me this book — another dig at my persona.

Compiled from various scouting manuals, civic texts, government propaganda and citizen preparation exams from the 1920s through the 1960s, this is a tongue-in-cheek look on the importance of washing your hands before you eat, being respectful to your parents, the hazards of cheating and why it�s not nice to poison your neighbors dog.

Okay sis, very funny. But I have a question — we�ve known each other long enough to understand how both of us work, and therefore you should know that when I�m told how I should act in certain situations, I almost always do the exact opposite. So, is this some kind of set-up out of resentment for the time I hit you with my skateboard when I was 16?

In this new-found required patriotism that we�re experiencing in the country today, are you trying to make me react out hand, thereby getting picked up by the authorities? Do you, a dog owner yourself, want me to go out and kill my neighbor�s dog? (And by the way, I do hate the neighbor�s fucking dog...)

Well, I�m on to you, my dear sister. I�m afraid your little plan has failed. Though this book is meant to be kitsch, there is a sense of starry-eyed earnestness in it. I believe the author truly believes some of this stuff, and she�s left out most of the cornier instructions from the government sponsored short films that I�ve seen showcased in Mystery Science Theater. Since the author seems to think these are actually good guidelines, the truly contrarian thing to do would be to ignore such suggestions, not do the opposite. Nice try though. I think I�ll by you an album by Pink come Christmas time.

Though I do seem to goose-step into conformity with page 25: �A Good Citizen Eats Meat — Plenty of Meat.� I never realized I was such a patriot. God Bless America.


Rating: Worth shredding and feeding to the neighbor�s dog... ah, christ, there goes my jingoistic nature again.

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