Da, așa este! O grea lovitură dată controversatei teorii a evoluționismului, teorie care agită spiritele pretutindeni unde e dezbătută, venind din partea a cui te aștepți mai puțin: a primatelor pe care Darwin le-a ales ca ultimă verigă… Însă, după cum se vede, este clar că e vorba de veriga slabă!
Am primit pe email o ‘anonima’ plina de tâlc, cu o poezie, având autor necunoscut, care merită a fi citită de domnii Remus Cernea, Emil Moise și colegii lor de la “Solidaritatea pentru libertatea de conștiință”, ca lucrare de referință pentru demersurile dumnealor în susținerea teoriei evoluționiste. Ba chiar cred că năstrușnica poezie ar trebui introdusă în programa școlară, nu neapărat prin valoarea ei literară, cât pentru valoarea educațională.
Delectați-vă!
PROTESTUL MAIMUȚELOR
Odată o maimuță din evul anecdotic,
Venind la sfat pe-o creangă de arbore exotic,
A explodat: „Surate, sunt foarte ofensată
Că-n jungla hominidă superevoluată
A apărut o teză, vădit malițioasă,
Că Homo ar descinde din stirpea noastră aleasă…
Eu protestez sălbatic, rănită în mândrie,
Că se propagă-n lume asemenea prostie.
Dacă-ntâlniți un singur nepot pitecantrop,
Atunci, pentru banane să vă urcați în plop…
Nu sufăr comparații cu tristul regn uman,
Sunt mulțumită, nene, că-s pur orangutan.
Eu, chiar să mă oblige în vreun laborator,
N-aș deveni port-bâtă și nici informator;
Și cum progenitorii maimuță m-au făcut,
Sper să n-ajung ca omul, un josnic involut!
Păi, s-a văzut vreodată la noi atâta ură?
Oare la noi se minte, se junghie, se fură?
Nu veți vedea prin lume, cât timp purta-vom coadă,
Gorile divorțate și prunci lăsați pe stradă.
Cine-a văzut în hoardă vreun irațional
Tâmpindu-se cu droguri, sau homosexual?
Nu inspirăm Marlboro, nu traficăm muniții,
Nu prea avem știință, n-avem nici superstiții,
Nici cârciumi, nici spitale, nici case de nebuni,
Și nu plătim pe alții să facă rugăciuni.
Ați întâlnit prin codri vreun cimpanzeu bețiv,
Gibon care să-njure sau pavian parșiv?
Cât am umblat eu creanga, scuzați, n-am observat
În obștea simiască, cocotier privat,
Nici garduri și nici paznici, nici pui murind de foame
Sau omorâți în taină de-așa zise mame.
Lipsesc și teroriștii, n-avem corupți, nici duri,
Nici țari, nici prim-miniștri pe care să-i înjuri.
La mondiale suntem cu mult în urmă noi,
Încât n-am fost în stare de nici un prim război.
Noi n-am avut ev mediu, ci numai mediu pur,
Lipsit de inchiziții, de orizont obscur,
Noi n-avem drepți în temniți, nici versuri puse-n lanțuri,
Nici chefuri după care să ne culcăm prin șanțuri.
E drept, n-avem miliții în junglă, dar nici mafii,
N-avem un staff al morții, n-avem nici măcar stáfii!
(E trist s-ajungi vreodată privit la Zoo Park
Dar maxima rușine-i să pui pe alții-n țarc).
Eu vă invit pe toate acum la rațiune:
Nu promovați această credință de minune;
Să nu apară-n junglă manipulări în masă,
Cu dogme și partide în lupta lor de clasă.
Mă tem că ne pândește o nouă cruciadă,
O convertire a hoardei în monștri fără coadă.
De-o să vedeți vreodată c-am coborât din pom,
Maimuțărind făptura care își zice om,
Opriți-mă la vreme, să nu evoluez
Și, ajungând ca lumea, să nu știu ce să crez.
I-adevărat că omul a coborât, ca soi,
Dar, bre, fiți rezonabili, n-a coborât din noi.
NOTĂ: Unul dintre vizitatori mi-a semnalat că autorul acestei poezii este Florin Laiu. Ca urmare fac această cuvenită precizare.
NOTĂ (2): Am primit un email de la autorul poeziei, dl.Florin Laiu, care mi-a semnalat faptul că ceea ce am publicat eu pe site reprezintă varianta afectată deja de ‘folclor’ a poeziei dmniei sale, cu rugămintea de a o înlocui cu originalul. Ceea ce am și făcut, cu cea mai mare plăcere.
Intrasem sa iti torn ulei incins pe cap si dau de glume:) pune si tu un semn, un lol, sa nu ne aprindem dinainte!:))
Faina poezia si educativa.
Autorul poeziei este prof. teolog Florin Laiu.
Mao, dragule… Mă bucur că te-ai răzgândit cu uleiul… Interesant mod de a trata bloggerii! Mai bine dă si tu un suc!
Simido,
Mulțumesc pentru informație. Am facut o notificare la sfârsitul postului.
CRED CA TRE RECITATA IN BISERICA SI LA FESTIVALUL GAY
Autorul poeziei NU este Florin Laiu.
Judecatisi DVS din textul de mai jos,care i l-am scris si lui Florin Laiu .Oricine poate face cate variante vrea,nu apartine nimic lui Laiu
“ideea ati furat-o.
cel putin ultimele versuri le-ati copiat cuvant cu cuvant
este doar o traducere mai liberala,dezvoltata.
Nu aveam de unde sa stiu?stiu multe despre Monkey disgrace The monkey speaks his mind – dave bartholomew etc. pe asta ati mizat? ca 20 de ani nu se va sti nimic? Ati furat ,domnule ,si ati primit laudele cu nesimtire. Ba ati si bestelit pe niste persoane care au impanzit netul cu alte variante,nu ale poeziei dumneavoastra,ci a poeziei originale.
Halal caracter pentru un profesor la Institutul Teologic.Vreti sa traduceti Biblia?”
The Monkeys Disgrace
A friend sent me this poem, which seems a complement to Uncivilized, by Edmund Vance Cooke (1866-1932). I first heard Uncivilized at a CGO meeting in Alburquerque perhaps 5 or 7 years ago, when Everett Gross recited it from memory. The third verse of this one seems to me to be a direct reference to Uncivilized.
The Monkeys Disgrace
Three monkeys sat in a coconut tree
Discussing things as they’re said to be.
Said one to another, “Now listen, you two,
There’s a certain rumor that cannot be true,
That man descends from our noble race -
The very idea is a disgrace.
No monkey ever deserted his wife,
Starved her babies and ruined her life;
And you’ve never known a mother monk
To leave her babies with others to bunk,
Or pass them on from one to another
Til they scarcely know who is their mother.
And another thing you’ll never see -
A monk build a fence around a coconut tree
And let the coconuts go to waste,
Forbidding all other monks to taste.
Why, if I put a fence around this tree,
Starvation would force you to steal from me.
Here’s another thing a monk won’t do -
Go out at night and get on a stew,
Or use a gun or club or knife
To take some other monkey’s life;
Yes, Man Descended – That ornery cuss -
But, brother, he didn’t descend from us!”
– anonymous
Uncivilized begins,
An ancient ape, once on a time,
Disliked exceedingly to climb,
And so he picked him out a tree
And said, “Now this belongs to me.
I have a hunch that monks are mutts
And I can make them gather nuts
And bring the bulk of them to me,
By claiming title to this tree.”
[read the entire poem here]
One source attributes The Monkeys Disgrace poem to Nettie Bates Thomas, another to Ogden Nash. Yet another compares it to a 1950s Broadway show tune, which you can hear here.
But I’ve also found a lot of other attributions for it, some which date it back to within Cooke’s lifetime:
There is a Dear Abby column which reads as follows: Tri-City Herald, Thursday, July 30, 1987
DEAR ABBY: I see by your column in The Cleveland Plain Dealer that you are trying to find the author of the poem titled The Monkey’s Disgrace. I was stationed in North Africa with the U.S. Army in 1943 and 1944, and I saved the clipping (enclosed) from the Stars and Stripes (a paper published for the armed forces in the European theater). As you can see, the original title of this poem is Man Descended and the author is Pvt. Edwin R. Pauley. Glad to be of help. — Walter S. Zaborowski, Maple Heights, Ohio.
DEAR ABBY: I am happy to inform you that the author of the poem you printed in The Times-Picayune is none other than Fats Domino’s bandleader, arranger and trumpet player — Dave Bartholomew. You had the title wrong, however. The actual title is The Monkey Speaks His Mind. — Jim Peddecord, New Orleans.
DEAR ABBY: The Monkey’s Disgrace, published in The Daily Ardmoreite, was written by Phil Kerr. He wrote humorous poems comparing man to animals. He wrote a clever one about a gum-chewing man and a cud-chewing cow. — Phyllis Smee, Ardmore, Okla.
DEAR ABBY: I read you daily in The Punxatawney Spirit. I’ve kept a copy of that poem, A Monkey’s Disgrace, for years. It was written by Richard Rotor. — Mrs. Charles S. Smith, Punxatawney, PA.
DEAR ABBY: Re The Monkey’s Disgrace: I can’t help you — but a similar message was carried in the lyrics by Y. A. Harburg in Harold Arlen’s “Monkey in the Mango.” It was featured in the Broadway musical “Jamaica” in about 1957. — C. Gayle Warnock, Scottsdale, Ariz.
DEAR ABBY: The author of that poem about the monkeys was Gene Racey of Pulaski, Iowa. He operated a lumberyard for many years. On one occasion, Gene was a passenger in our car with three other men. Someone mentioned that poem, The Monkey’s Disgrace, and we all agreed it spoke the truth. The author was supposedly unknown. After a chuckle, Gene said, “I wrote that poem. I never claimed it because I didn’t want public recognition.” Gene Racey is now diseased, but another mutual friend still recalls Gene’s fun in revealing that he was the author. — The Rev. H. E. Harryman, Douds, Iowa.
DEAR ABBY: Do you want to know who wrote The Monkey’s Disgrace? It was James Whitcomb Riley. — Terry and Maureen
DEAR ABBY: The Omaha World Herald carried your column in which “John H. of Muncie, Ind.” asked who wrote the poem A Monkey’s Disgrace.
I have the poem, but it carried the title “The Monkey’s Viewpoint,” and the author is Bill Johnson. — Mrs. Paul Haws, Omaha, Neb.
DEAR ABBY: My ex-son-in-law told me that one night he and a bunch of his buddies were sitting around in Vietnam when one of the guys made up the first few lines, then another soldier added a few more, and before they knew it the entire poem about the monkey’s disgrace was put together. They called itThe Unknown Soldier’s Poem, because several soldiers made it up. — Ex-mother-in-law, Chippewa Falls, Wis.
DEAR ABBY: The Monkey’s Disgrace, published in the Oregonian, has been in my file for about 35 years. The author is Vera Bender. –Clara Peyrollaz, Carson, Wash.
and, in the St. Petersburg Times, October 17, 1987, appears this:
DEAR Abby: After reading “The Monkey’s Disgrace,” I felt I should tell you that I’ve had that poem since I was 10 years old. (I am now 80.) I am sending you two more amusing poems I have had for at least 70 years. You may want to share them with your readers. — Bertha D. Goff, Coldwater, Mich.
at http://www.rampbbs.net/monkeyinfo.htm, it is attributed:
The author of this poem is Gilliam S. Weaver. His symbol was 20 years behind the 8 ball which referred to prison time he served for armed robbery. He was caught inside an armored car with a gun in his possession. I met him in Bunker Hill Indiana in the cold winter of about 67. He was hitch hiking to a priest friend in Florida where he often wintered. His stories were so interesting that I took him home for lunch and later to the Kokomo city shelter near where I lived. He gave me a hand written copy of that poem as a means of saying thank you. He said that he had written that copy the previous night while he was in the Peru, IN jail for vagrancy. He said that they had picked him up the night before after they had served supper and released him the next morning before the served him breakfast.
He was an older man when I met him and I remember seeing him on the old Art Linkletter TV show telling the same stories. We even wrote to the priest in Florida to see if he ever made the trip safely, but never got an answer.
I’ve always remembered the poem and have always seen it as author unknown. Maybe we can put a name to that poem at last. His stories seemed believable to me, but who knows.
William R. Milligan
In any case, I encourage you to read it side by side with Uncivilized, and see what you think.