They Trust The Monkeys

Maybe the problem isn't that we have too many distractions in our lives, but that they aren't well-placed. Like, where are those lifesize holograms my dentist promised me were on the way? He said he'd have them up and working by this summer. Well, I go to get my teeth cleaned today, and still no holograms. I could have really used one. The hygenist was playing this delicate classical music. Now I love classical music, but when someone is digging at your gums you need some competing stimuli that is jabbier than the hygeniest's fork. The harp twinkling sweetly over the speaker did me no good. So I had to work extra hard to take the softness of that harp and turn it into a mental image of Harpo Marx. This is where a hologram of Harpo cradling his harp and grinning at me would have come in handy. But no, I had to hold this picture in my mind on my own.

My mental Harpo never tired, and I watched him mug and roll his eyes for quite some time. But then I started thinking that a better distraction would be monkeys. If I could have seen holographic monkeys perched on top of the arm of the x-ray machine, showing their teeth and performing antics, I would have forgotten about my own teeth completely.

This brings to mind a trip to the Omaha Zoo the Girl Scouts of Tomahawk Elementary will be taking in a few weeks. They're going to be spending time in the monkey pit. The monkeys, I am told, are running around out in the open. They come up and touch you. The zookeepers allow this. They trust the monkeys. But the monkeys like to jump you, and if you don't watch out, you end up with a monkey on your back! The trick is to shake them loose, but we all know how hard that can be. Good luck, Troop 1985. Perhaps there will be a badge in it for you.