Me and my monkey- yes, I know, technically it’s a chimpanzee and grammatically it’s “my monkey and I”, so shut your face! I’m sorry. I apologize, Dear Reader, for that unwarranted outburst, but these cantankerous hominids have kept me up far past my bedtime and we’re still no closer to solving this age-old conundrum. Please, allow me to start again-
My chimpanzee and I took it upon ourselves to investigate MyNews24 user Bergie’s question on whether a room full of chimpanzees could feasibly, if left unattended for an extended period of time, bash out the entire collected works of Shakespeare (see article: A Chimp and a Typewriter by user Bergie). “This looks like a job for Objective Science!” I thought to myself.
With the incentive of a few cases of fermented bananas and clever semantics, we were able to coax several of my pet chimpanzee’s friends around for a “typing party.” (Adding the word party on after a chore is normally what friends do when they want to get their companions to do all their hard work for them.) The chimps, being none the wiser of the behemoth task that awaited them, gladly agreed. Poor fools.
Fortunately for me, I have access to government facilities; we hijacked a “media centre” and converted it into our makeshift laboratory. I decided that given the complexity of the task, I may as well provide the chimps with cutting edge word-processing power rather than archaic typewriters lest I be hunted down by the SPCA for acts of animal cruelty.
The experiment got off to a good start. After mission briefing, the chimpanzees immediately began experimentally prodding their keyboards, but after an hour I was disappointed with their progress. One of them was idly playing solitaire, another had hijacked the internet connection to watch Gorillas performing illicit acts on the NatGeoWild website and yet another had produced nothing but a rather morose haiku.
My own chimp, sensing the seriousness of the experiment, had begun tapping out the opening lines of The Canterbury Tales.
“I said Shakespeare!” I cried in exasperation, “Not Chaucer, you idiot! Do you know nothing?” Deadlines were pressing and the stress was getting to me. I stormed from the room, furious.
By the time I returned after regaining my composure, the hairy brutes were well into their cases of fermented bananas. They glared at me with bleary eyed belligerence as I entered. I feared the alcohol was turning them into violent, angry drunks. I had seen Rise of the Planet of the Apes and I knew how this story ended! So I ran. I ran as fast as I could, barely managing to bolt the door behind me and left them there to dry out. Please don’t be concerned for our primitive cousins, Sensitive Reader, I shall return in the morning to let them out bearing cream soda and McDonald’s Breakfasts for their hangovers as a means of atonement.
So alas, I have no answers for our fellow News24 readers. The jury is still out there and the only scrap of anything resembling the Shakespearean writing capabilities of the species Pan Troglodytes is this sinister haiku:
I am Chimpanzee
Look at how they laugh at us
Silly human plague
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