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Evolutionismul zdruncinat rau de tot de maimute!

Da, aºa este! O grea loviturã datã controversatei teorii a evoluþionismului, teorie care agitã spiritele pretutindeni unde e dezbãtutã, venind din partea a cui te aºtepþi mai puþin: a primatelor pe care Darwin le-a ales ca ultimã verigã… Însã, dupã cum se vede, este clar cã e vorba de veriga slabã!

Am primit pe email o ‘anonima’ plina de tâlc, cu o poezie, având autor necunoscut, care meritã a fi cititã de domnii Remus Cernea, Emil Moise ºi colegii lor de la “Solidaritatea pentru libertatea de conºtiinþã”, ca lucrare de referinþã pentru demersurile dumnealor în susþinerea teoriei evoluþioniste. Ba chiar cred cã nãstruºnica poezie ar trebui introdusã în programa ºcolarã, nu neapãrat prin valoarea ei literarã, cât pentru valoarea educaþionalã.

Delectaþi-vã!

PROTESTUL MAIMUÞELOR

Odatã o maimuþã din evul anecdotic,
Venind la sfat pe-o creangã de arbore exotic,
A explodat: „Surate, sunt foarte ofensatã
Cã-n jungla hominidã superevoluatã
A apãrut o tezã, vãdit maliþioasã,
Cã Homo ar descinde din stirpea noastrã aleasã…
Eu protestez sãlbatic, rãnitã în mândrie,
Cã se propagã-n lume asemenea prostie.
Dacã-ntâlniþi un singur nepot pitecantrop,
Atunci, pentru banane sã vã urcaþi în plop…
Nu sufãr comparaþii cu tristul regn uman,
Sunt mulþumitã, nene, cã-s pur orangutan.
Eu, chiar sã mã oblige în vreun laborator,
N-aº deveni port-bâtã ºi nici informator;
ªi cum progenitorii maimuþã m-au fãcut,
Sper sã n-ajung ca omul, un josnic involut!
Pãi, s-a vãzut vreodatã la noi atâta urã?
Oare la noi se minte, se junghie, se furã?
Nu veþi vedea prin lume, cât timp purta-vom coadã,
Gorile divorþate ºi prunci lãsaþi pe stradã.
Cine-a vãzut în hoardã vreun iraþional
Tâmpindu-se cu droguri, sau homosexual?
Nu inspirãm Marlboro, nu traficãm muniþii,
Nu prea avem ºtiinþã, n-avem nici superstiþii,
Nici cârciumi, nici spitale, nici case de nebuni,
ªi nu plãtim pe alþii sã facã rugãciuni.
Aþi întâlnit prin codri vreun cimpanzeu beþiv,
Gibon care sã-njure sau pavian parºiv?
Cât am umblat eu creanga, scuzaþi, n-am observat
În obºtea simiascã, cocotier privat,
Nici garduri ºi nici paznici, nici pui murind de foame
Sau omorâþi în tainã de-aºa zise mame.
Lipsesc ºi teroriºtii, n-avem corupþi, nici duri,
Nici þari, nici prim-miniºtri pe care sã-i înjuri.
La mondiale suntem cu mult în urmã noi,
Încât n-am fost în stare de nici un prim rãzboi.
Noi n-am avut ev mediu, ci numai mediu pur,
Lipsit de inchiziþii, de orizont obscur,
Noi n-avem drepþi în temniþi, nici versuri puse-n lanþuri,
Nici chefuri dupã care sã ne culcãm prin ºanþuri.
E drept, n-avem miliþii în junglã, dar nici mafii,
N-avem un staff al morþii, n-avem nici mãcar stáfii!
(E trist s-ajungi vreodatã privit la Zoo Park
Dar maxima ruºine-i sã pui pe alþii-n þarc).
Eu vã invit pe toate acum la raþiune:
Nu promovaþi aceastã credinþã de minune;
Sã nu aparã-n junglã manipulãri în masã,
Cu dogme ºi partide în lupta lor de clasã.
Mã tem cã ne pândeºte o nouã cruciadã,
O convertire a hoardei în monºtri fãrã coadã.
De-o sã vedeþi vreodatã c-am coborât din pom,
Maimuþãrind fãptura care îºi zice om,
Opriþi-mã la vreme, sã nu evoluez
ªi, ajungând ca lumea, sã nu ºtiu ce sã crez.
I-adevãrat cã omul a coborât, ca soi,
Dar, bre, fiþi rezonabili, n-a coborât din noi.

NOTÃ: Unul dintre vizitatori mi-a semnalat cã autorul acestei poezii este Florin Laiu. Ca urmare fac aceastã cuvenitã precizare.

NOTÃ (2): Am primit un email de la autorul poeziei, dl.Florin Laiu, care mi-a semnalat faptul cã ceea ce am publicat eu pe site reprezintã varianta afectatã deja de ‘folclor’ a poeziei dmniei sale, cu rugãmintea de a o înlocui cu originalul. Ceea ce am ºi fãcut, cu cea mai mare plãcere.

5 Comments

  1. 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.

  2. Mao, dragule… Mã bucur cã te-ai rãzgândit cu uleiul… Interesant mod de a trata bloggerii! Mai bine dã si tu un suc!

    Simido,
    Mulþumesc pentru informaþie. Am facut o notificare la sfârsitul postului.

  3. 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.

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