Plastic Monkeys

I’ve got a bit chubby of late. It’s not cos I’m depressed or I’m lazy or cos of some obscure medical condition. It’s because I go to the fridge or the cupboard, pull something out, and my mind goes “We really don’t need this.” And I go “(chew-chew-chew) I agree. (chew-chew)”

This is the reason I’ve put on a few kilo’s. Greed in the face of rational thought. Indulgence in the face of reason. Doing worse when I know better. It’s pretty pathetic.

Of course I’m not the only one on this wide and beaten path. It’s becoming a quintessentially human characteristic, nay, ability. To do the wrong thing when we know exactly what the right thing is, and how to do it. Who needs better judgement when you’ve got immediate action?

As the planet tilts and threatens to let us all slide into oblivion, we stay strong; Pursuing our worldly dreams and occupations in the face of evidence that doing so will relegate our species (or a vast majority of it) to the scrap heap.

Why?

In a small industrial town in Lebanon, Yariv runs a factory. The factory produces plastic monkeys. Not big ones. Tiny little ones, with one arm up and one arm down. They are hung off the side of cocktail glasses in cheesy holiday resorts, to add a bit of fun and flair to the drink. They’re used once, maybe treasured briefly by kids, then discarded. The plastic is cheap and brittle. They wouldn’t last for long, even if you did use them again.

Every now and again, Yariv sits in his office, on his beaten leather swivel chair, staring into the middle distance. The world is dying, he thinks. Should I try and help save it? Do people really need that added trinket on their drinks? That fleeting moment of novelty before they suck back yet another Mai Tai? Maybe I should stop. The plastic is toxic once it starts breaking down, and I’m pretty sure they don’t dispose of them properly. I could make the whole world that tiny bit healthier. Safer. Cleaner. If I just do my bit...

Then the phone rings. It’s another order. Time to go back to work.

We do what we do because it’s easier than changing. But if nothing changes, and no-one changes, the world turns into the Friends box-set. An increasingly predictable and repetitive series of situations that numb the mind and soul til you just wish it was all over. I guess what I’m getting at is that the end of the world and David Schwimmer really aren’t that different. So unless you want to see Ross from friends rise to prominence once again, YOU NEED TO CHANGE YOUR WAYS BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!!

You have been warned