An Hour at The Jerusalem Biblical Zoo

Once upon a time I accompanied a group of tourists to the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo (I was part of their security/medical escort). We stopped in front of the baboon compound. It was an area surrounded by a high metal fence, enclosing what looked a lot like ‘the natural habitat of baboons – the dirty zoo version’: rock formations strewn around, some trees, water ponds.

There was a pack of baboons inside. Their asses were huge, with a big red part of them protruding, luridly, outward – I thought those were probably their sexual organs, but I couldn’t quite make up my mind which organs, exactly, they were. Maybe having your ass all red and sticking out like that was a sign of sexual arousal? I do not know….

They were running around, all exited (courtship?), screaming, jumping, maybe even, occasionally, beating their chests, resolving their baboon issues in their baboon way. I stood there and stared. Me, the civilized man, literate in several languages, both human and computer, [self] educated, armed (I had an M-1 carbine), also with knowledge… I was even being ‘civilized’ at that very moment, being nice to a little kid, from our group, who had had to live through the Beslan Massacre. And yet I felt inferior to those monkeys.

I envied them. Intensely. I wanted to be a monkey at that very moment. I wanted to be a caveman – I’m quite certain I had already been an anarchist, in my political views, back then, and to me, anarchy meant hunting and gathering.

You see, we, the civilized, we walk through life with huge corn cubs stuck up our asses – all the cultural baggage, accumulated through the ages, that has been bred into us, that we have been brainwashed, through pain and humiliation, to accept, instead of our true urges, our true animal passions: to be running around naked in the jungle, exposing our privates and screaming at eachother. Expressing all our emotions instead of holding it all in for the sake of equilibrium and social stability. And propriety. And because we know no better.

Spare the rod, spoil the child, goes the proverb, or am I screwing it up again? Our ‘superior’ civilized notions, memes, are imprinted in our minds through pain, by the rod, that’s the only way to do it and that’s why the rod is necessary, and I certainly was spared none of it, yet still came out broken, at the end. Evolution does not take care of end cases. Bad experiences, just like bad genes, accumulate and flow down through the generations until finally they converge in a single individual, or a group of individuals, making them too sick to procreate. Thus the bad material is expelled from the genotype and from the population, life purges itself….. and can continue, but this is not what I came here to speak of. I just wanted to tell you about some monkeys.

Peace out.

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