The Monkey King's Used Primate Emporium and Book Reviews

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Pat Mills and Kevin O�Neill, �Marshal Law: Day of the Dead�

Started July 13 - Finished July 13, 2005; 96 pages. Posted 30 August 2005

Just to clarify something � I made a few mentions of somebody I called �Baby�s Momma� which apparently freaked some people the fuck out. No, I have no kids. I thought about having children once, but I really wasn�t that hungry. In any case, Baby�s Momma does have kids, but not mine. I suppose I should have called her �Not My Baby�s Momma� but that still sounds like I have babies, and �Momma Who Has Babies That Aren�t Mine� is too unwieldy. Suggestions are welcome.

So back to the lesbians.

I had no idea who these people were or what they looked like. The standard joke was that either I was going to be dressing sharper from that whole queer eye thing, or, more likely, they would be taking fashion tips from me. �Dude, where�d you get those boots! Can I borrow them?�

I didn�t know what to expect. Would they look like Chasing Amy lipstick lesbians, or Monty Python Lumberjacks Lesbians?

Wouldn�t you like to know?

OK, OK, they�re more like the former, though not heavy on the makeup. In fact, they�re more like Karen Allen in her first appearance from Raiders of the Lost Ark. They can also probably win more than a few drinking contests like in that film. But they are both in the military so I�d better shut the fuck up before they tell me to drop and give them twenty.

Man, that sounds truly dirty. It�s not like that, people!

School. Or, in Zim-speak, Skool. When I decided to flee California, I sent out the applications as quickly as possible. The original plan was just to get another BA, this time in journalism. Last time I got one of those fancy diploma-type things, it was in Radio, Television and Film. I don�t like television, and the only radio I listen to is public funded. Smart.

I then realized I could get a Master�s in Communication, which had just melded with the journalism department here, and they both offered internships with the press in Hawaii. Perfect.

Except that the deadline for the Master�s program ended two month�s previous. With less than a month before I arrive, I switch my application to �unclassified student.�

I get here, and my plan is to take some undergraduate courses in journalism. Again. I figure this will get my face known in the department. If I can talk my way into any of the graduate courses in communications, fine, and then I�ll be known around their department as well. But by the time I�m allowed to register for classes my computer is being loaded on a boat. After I arrive on the island, I go to student services. They direct me to the computer lab to register.

The lab tells me I can�t use their facilities, as I�m not a student. I tell them I can�t register for classes and become a student until I use their lab. This logic fails to make an impression. Since the lab is located in a library, I offer to fetch a copy of Heller�s Catch-22 and show the relevant passages. This doesn�t help.

I finally talk my way onto a machine. Their Web site has a listing of how many seats are still available in each course, constantly updated, which reads more like a doomsday clock as the minutes tick by. I find my courses and enter the required fields.

None of them go through.

I try and fail again, this time noticing the angry red marks on my screen with error codes. I look up the key for the codes and find that all the courses that I want either need you to have a required major in communications or journalism. As an unclassified student, I can�t declare a major. I offer to show the computer the same Heller book. The computer doesn�t answer.

I pick three classes that I have mild interest in, just so I become a registered student. I find I only have enough money in my accounts to take two of them. Checking with financial aid, I discover unclassified students aren�t qualified for grants.

Shit.

I lurk around the communications department seeing what can be done. The best solution seems to be taking one journalism class, and one communications graduate course which can be transferred later, if I can talk my way into the class.

I finally find one professor willing to accept me for a course called Communication Theories. There are only about 16 people in the class, so on the first day we have to do the circle thing and make introductions, repeating every other person�s name as we go in the circle. I�m sure most of you have had to do this exercise.

This time, however, the professor suggests we use a mnemonic device to help us remember other people�s names. �For instance,� she says, �My name is Liz, but you can call me Lovely Liz.�

The woman to her left begins, saying, �This is Lovely Liz, and I am Terrific Terry.�

No, I am not making these up.

After Lovely Liz and Terrific Terry, we had Enterprising Alicia, Rockin� Roca, and Lucky Lauren.

And then it was my turn.

But I�m going to jump forward a bit. Since this was the first day, most classes let out early. After we finished with all the names and introductions, and discussions on what the class would entail we still had an hour left. Instead of letting us go, however, she showed us a film called �Message from Water.�

The film concentrated on a �doctor� who realized that snowflakes aren�t alike and that since water is melted snow, perhaps water has unique properties. He began his research by looking for crystals after freezing tap water, but wasn�t having much luck until he stopped using tap water and went to a waterfall.

So. Water from the source has crystals. Stick with this.

For some unexplained reason, they began playing music to the crystals that formed, though it seemed to be all classical � nothing by the Ramones or anything � and the crystals seemed to grow.

And so then they taped words to the vials. If they taped the words �Thank you,� the crystals got bigger still. Conversely, if they taped (and I�m NOT making this up) the words, �I will kill you� to the vial, the crystals stopped growing and dissipated.

This should give you a good idea of what the teacher was like.

But back to the name game that happened before the film showing. It�s my turn.

�That�s Lovely Liz,� I start out. �That�s Terrific Terry, Enterprising Alicia, Rockin� Rocca, and Lucky Lauren. As for me�

�I�m Dean, Dammit.�

Nobody forgot my name. Now I�m off to go tell the ocean that it better watch its back.


Rating: Maybe if I tell this book that I�ll kill it, it will dissipate as well.

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