As we do each year at this time, while the wheels of governance
lie briefly idle, and ochre and russet creep into the leaf,
the lawnmowers having fallen silent, the rakes not yet out of the shed,
we offer this classic essay on the discovery of America.
Certain people -- cranks, for the most part, after the
fashion of Baconists -- strenuously maintain that the American continents were
discovered well before Columbus.
And after extensive researches into ancient evidence, abetted by the
most advanced techniques of modern science, we must concur to this extent: The discovery happened a very very long
time ago; and it was made by none
other than penguins.
Thoughts
for Columbus Day
[Originally posted Monday,
October 10, 2011]
Scene: The Earth. Time: The last glaciation.
It was cold. -- How cold?
Cold
enough for the seas to descend, or to freeze to solidity; so that feet
might dry-shod pass the Bering Strait, leaving the tired old world for the
undiscovered new.
And such was the route (so historians tell it) by which the New World was first peopled.
And yet these scholars neglect one simple fact: It was so d*mned cold, so effing cold, that, any normal person, it’d freeze his f***ing b*lls off.
Which
leads, by simple syllogism, to the novel yet suddenly irrefragable
fact: Who passed the Strait on that fateful day, were no men as we now
know them, but such Beings as scoff, as laugh at ice -- their laughter
bell-like in the frigid air. And so we are forced to this startling,
yet eminently logical conclusion: (I anticipate a Nobel, or at least a
MacArthur, for noticing this): Native Americans are the lineal descendents of penguins.
The contentious might object, that the migration route of the Amerindians went via the northern polar regions, whereas the penguins of today inhabit Antarctica, somewhat to the south. The objection may, however, be overcome, via – mm – symmetry considerations.
To be sure, a people which could eventually settle in MesoAmerica and
the Caribbean must have lost, over time, their original solid
penguinity, much as salamanders, long confined to subterranean caves, in
time may lose their eyes; thus leading to the present-day American
anthropoid fauna's sadly decayed state. And this, no doubt, by the same
Mendelian-chromosomal processes which originally led to their distant
ancestors, beginning from humble vertebrate beginnings, to attain that
exalted, richly feathered, impeccably streamlined pinguinal state. (I
invite the lab lackeys to iron out the details.)
Q.E.D.
~
For further, remarkably truth-like funfacts about
prehistoric penguins,
simply grasp the mouse firmly in your right hand
(respectively the left, if a southpaw),
carefully place the cursor atop the highlighted text,
and …. CLICK !
(There! Wasn’t
that easy?)
~
~ Posthumous Endorsement ~
"If I were alive
today, and in the mood for a mystery,
this is what I'd be
reading: "
(Io sono Cristoforo Colombo,
and I approved this message.)
~
~
~
[Update, midafternoon, Columbus Day 2013] As my handy spying-on-American
blogstats inform me, many of you now viewing this page are arriving from the
NPR site. Which means that most of
you are probably federal employees, lounging and lolling about on the taxpayer’s
dime on this federal holiday.
Whereas, me, I’m diligently blogging on the taxpayer’s dime.
So, to help fill your empty hours on this seemingly endless
three-day weekend,
herewith some posts inspired by stories on or about NPR:
Visit beautiful People’s Korea
NPR “scandal”
Secret slush-fund
Obama vs. LBJ
On the weasel-words “Well, again …”
And, for those of you fleeing the rigors of the ongoing NPR
fund drive:
Essays specially for furloughed federal employees:
Reflections on the furlough (with
bonus hamster):
Some improving reading-matter while
you suffer heroically through the furlough:
In which we take back everything we
ever said about the furlough:
Furlough reading restricted to non-furloughed (essential)
personnel:
“V/R”
“They also serve, who only stand
and analyze sphincter pads”
“Scenes from Elevator Life”
(close-hold)
(Hey there, you SBA no-load -- Hands off that mouse!)
.
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