tagged w/ Nana
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PART ONE...
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Author and legendary conservationist Lawrence Anthony died March 7. His family tells of a solemn procession on March 10 that defies human explanation.
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For 12 hours, two herds of wild South African elephants slowly made their way through the Zululand bush until they reached the house of late author Lawrence Anthony, the conservationist who saved their lives. The formerly violent, rogue elephants, destined to be shot a few years ago as pests, were rescued and rehabilitated by Anthony, who had grown up in the bush and was known as the “Elephant Whisperer.”
For two days the herds loitered at Anthony’s rural compound on the vast Thula Thula game reserve in the South African KwaZulu – to say good-bye to the man they loved. But how did they know he had died March 7? Known for his unique ability to calm traumatized elephants, Anthony had become a legend. He is the author of three books, Babylon Ark, detailing his efforts to rescue the animals at Baghdad Zoo during the Iraqi war, the forthcoming "The Last Rhinos", and his bestselling "The Elephant Whisperer".
There are two elephant herds at Thula Thula. According to his son Dylan, both arrived at the Anthony family compound shortly after Anthony’s death.
They had not visited the house for a year and a half and it must have taken them about 12 hours to make the journey,” Dylan is quoted in various local news accounts. “The first herd arrived on Sunday and the second herd, a day later. They all hung around for about two days before making their way back into the bush."
Elephants have long been known to mourn their dead. In India, baby elephants often are raised with a boy who will be their lifelong “mahout.” The pair develop legendary bonds – and it is not uncommon for one to waste away without a will to live after the death of the other.
But these are wild elephants in the 21st century, not some Rudyard Kipling novel. The first herd to arrive at Thula Thula several years ago was violent. They hated humans. Anthony found himself fighting a desperate battle for their survival and their trust, which he detailed in "The Elephant Whisperer:“
"It was 4:45 a.m. and I was standing in front of Nana, an enraged wild elephant, pleading with her in desperation. Both our lives depended on it. The only thing separating us was an 8,000-volt electric fence that she was preparing to flatten and make her escape. Nana, the matriarch of her herd, tensed her enormous frame and flared her ears. ’Don’t do it, Nana,’ I said, as calmly as I could. She stood there, motionless but tense. The rest of the herd froze. ’This is your home now,’ I continued. ‘Please don’t do it, girl.’ I felt her eyes boring into me.
“’They’ll kill you all if you break out. This is your home now. You have no need to run any more.
"Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation struck me,” Anthony writes. “Here I was in pitch darkness, talking to a wild female elephant with a baby, the most dangerous possible combination, as if we were having a friendly chat. But I meant every word. ‘You will all die if you go. Stay here. I will be here with you and it’s a good place.’
"She took another step forward. I could see her tense up again, preparing to snap the electric wire and be out, the rest of the herd smashing after her in a flash. I was in their path, and would only have seconds to scramble out of their way and climb the nearest tree. I wondered if I would be fast enough to avoid being trampled. Possibly not. Then something happened between Nana and me, some tiny spark of recognition, flaring for the briefest of moments. Then it was gone. Nana turned and melted into the bush. The rest of the herd followed. I couldn’t explain what had happened between us, but it gave me the first glimmer of hope since the elephants had first thundered into my life.”
It had all started several weeks earlier with a phone call from an elephant welfare organization. Would Anthony be interested in adopting a problem herd of wild elephants? They lived on a game reserve 600 miles away and were “troublesome,” recalled Anthony. They had a tendency to break out of reserves and the owners wanted to get rid of them fast.
" If we didn’t take them, they would be shot."
The woman explained, "The matriarch is an amazing escape artist and has worked out how to break through electric fences. She just twists the wire around her tusks until it snaps, or takes the pain and smashes through."
“’Why me?’ I asked."
“'’I’ve heard you have a way with animals. You’re right for them. Or maybe they’re right for you.’”
What followed was heart-breaking. One of the females and her baby were shot and killed in the round-up, trying to evade capture.
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CONTINUED...
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PHOTO: A line of gentle elephants approaching Lawrence Anthony's house.
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PART ONE...
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Author and legendary conservationist Lawrence Anthony... more
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Birds do it, bees do it, even perverts in the trees do it. Let’s do it, let’s fuck online.
Chances are, if you’re on the internet (which as of this printing is still the only way that I know you could be reading this, though if you know of any others, please let us know), then you’re probably reading this with one hand in your pants, leisurely pleasuring yourself. That’s just a science fact. Because as you know, every new invention since the dawn of man has come about due to a need to advance the field of physical gratification.
Fire? Invented so cave perverts could violently flog their pre-historic, barbed procreation utensils to crude vagina wall paintings at night.
The wheel? Walking from one clubbed female’s dwelling to the next had worn out its novelty. The pre-men of yesterage also needed some way to easily signal potential mates of their remaining virility at the ripe old middle age of 14.
Sliced bread? The Manwich.
So it should come as a surprise to exactly no one that the internets too were created solely for the transmittal and reception of pornographic images, thoughts and ideas. As with bread, people have simply adapted sex technologies to be used in other walks of life. Now, a study done by a New Brunswick researcher is attempting to shed some light on the internet’s original purpose for existence: cybersex.
Krystelle Shaughnessy, (clearly a made up name, even by Canadian standards of ridiculous namery) a psychology student at the University of New Brunswick decided to research the role of cybersex in the current internet landscape while, not surprisingly, cybering her sex. Engaged in a long-distance relationship, and being a modern woman of the 21st century Krystelle did what anyone would in her position, try to justify her deviant nature with a college research paper.
Her hypothesis was that, “where her grandmother would have put pen to paper to maintain such an affair, and her mother would have picked up the phone, her natural medium was online.”
And she’s right. As I’ve explained, pen, paper and the telephone were all invented for sexual purposes. Just try not to imagine after this painstakingly detailed recounting, your beloved Nana’s penmanship gradually deteriorate as she furiously scribbled her dirtiest thoughts into a steamy letter of passion and naughtyness, then handing it to the postman with a blush, knowing just what it was that he was holding in his hands to be delivered to Peepaw so that he might feverishly pleasure himself to the naughty words of his beloved, before wondering what this harlot who could spew such filth might be doing with the rest of her time not filled with scribbling her most deviant thoughts. Basically, what I’m saying is that your grandparents were distrustful sickos who traded sex drenched letters while they were apart, and carry with them, even today, secrets that they will be buried with…
Now where was I?
Oh, that’s right, the office chair hand dance.
“A key piece in the research that I’m conducting right now is, who do you have cybersex with? One thing that is across the board — whether I’m talking to researchers, students, anybody — is this notion that cybersex is two strangers hiding from their offline partners engaging in sex online, and I don’t think that’s reality,” she said.
Here, the fine researcher and I differ in opinion. But I suppose our only difference is what percentage of which is what…
Let me clarify.
Cybersex, as it has existed since the invention of the internet, has been largely two men pretending to be lesbians having sexy chat times, sans pants. That has remained the one constant in the ever evolving intertubes. The definition of “stranger” then becomes a sticking point. Obviously there is some getting to know this person pretending to be someone else. So when do we go from fake lesbian intercourse with a stranger to fake lesbian intercourse with an acquaintance or even fake lesbian intercourse with a friend? Fewer instances of cybersex are initiated between people who have known each other before chatting online than vicey versey is what I’m saying. More people have come together with the intention to come together than because distance necessitates it.
“I think my key thing going into this was to try to normalize a behaviour I think is fairly normal,” she said.
And while noble, and understandable, there is no normal on the internet. In a place where the words “two girls” and “one cup” now mean something that we could never have previously imagined, the wild west of human sexual deviances doesn’t want to be normalized and doesn’t need to be justified. We are a creature who evolved thumbs solely so that we could encircle our tingly bits with them. It’s our teachings over the years that that impulse is bad that makes it necessary to write a paper proving what you’re instinctively drawn to do is okay.
So what I’m saying is: human beings, get over yourselves.
Birds do it, bees do it, all the sickos and the sleaze do it. Let’s do it, let’s turn on our webcams and take off our pants!
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For all your rickety, windowless, primered comedy needs, visit:
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