It’s Friday, so here’s my still-very-new newsletter. I think “quick update + something dumb” is gonna be the model here. A few sentences about what I’ve been up to lately, then something short and stupid for you to read, if you want, not necessarily related.
QUICK UPDATE
The actors strike is over! Work’s picking up, but during this industry down year, I started a filmmaking project to stay busy. It’s about a weird guy obsessed with the apes at the LA Zoo. After shooting bits and pieces since Spring, using UCLA directing classes to workshop scenes as I went along, we’re finally digging into the full edit.
I was inspired to try something ambitious and ape-related by my buddy Conner O’Malley. Two years ago we shot The Mask, which was finally released this September. I’m super proud. It’s only $5 on the linked website if you want to take a wild 24 minute ride. I also helped him make Rebranded Mickey Mouse this year. That vid’s on YouTube and shorter, but also insane.
Anyway, this ape thing has me frequently visiting the zoo, in character. The below should give you some gist of what that’s been like. Enjoy!
SOMETHING DUMB
Young sir,
You seemed to be having quite the enjoyable afternoon at the Los Angeles Zoo’s Gorilla Exhibit last Sunday. I don’t know if you noticed, but you weren’t the only observer present. I was there, too, as I often am.
I was the polite gentleman who corrected you after you called the majestic Western Lowland Gorillas “monkeys”. Remember? I informed you they are not monkeys, in fact, they are apes, great ones, as are you and I — unless you have a tail I don’t know about. I did not appreciate the dirty looks your guardians gave me while I calmly laid out the science.
I’m not trying to scold, but the gorilla exhibit is not a spot for folly. It is a sacred meeting place, an area to quietly behold, to respect the presence of our close and gentle cousins. You have a great deal to learn about respect, but here’s an intro course: it is not given freely. Respect must be earned, over many hours and many visits.
Can you read? I don’t want to presume, but you did seem old enough to be sounding out some words. Maybe you simply failed to notice the signs? The ones asking guests not to pound their grubby fists on the glass? That glass is not like the digital screen of the iPad raising you, it is a real physical membrane, mere millimeters thick, delineating us from them, the troop; from handsome Kelly, loyal Rapunzel, loving N’djia, and precious, darling little Angela.
Speaking of Kelly, my silverback friend, I believe I heard your father figure remark that “the big one should play for the Chargers.” He most certainly should not. Mature male gorillas are ten times stronger than any roided-up ruffian, and their participation in a contact sport like football would be a danger to every homo sapien involved. Baseball, that’s a different story. I recommend streaming the delightful Korean flick Mr. Go for a fantastical take on that very premise.
I digress. In the days that followed, I tried to let the blatant ignorance slide. After all, not everyone is as passionate and studied of a primate-enthusiast as myself. However, when I reviewed the footage — maybe you didn’t recognize the GoPro I was wearing on my forehead, but yes I was rolling on the entire encounter — there you were, hogging the frame, rendering much of the day’s research useless. I did not appreciate this at all. I became quite pissed, almost as angry as when you knocked over my Pacifico tall boy with your careless bubble wand antics.
I’m still flabbergasted that your parents flat out refused to purchase me a new one, by the way. The beers they sell at the zoo are extremely expensive, and the cost of five or six adds up fast. On a semi-related note, I strongly believe many animals, those of a certain intelligence, should also be allowed to suck down a few cold ones, on special occasion. The zoo isn’t supposed to be a jail.
Let me back up a bit and provide some broader context for my frustration with your family unit. Sunday was my first day back on zoo premises, what should have been a triumphant return after serving an unjust 30-day ban handed down for “attempting to enter a restricted area,” whatever that means. I had a month of lost face time to make up for; my primate associates desperately missed me, and I them.
That’s why I was trying to show “The Three Stooges: Getting Hurt For Real” through the glass, when you first arrived and so rudely shoved in front of my phone. It took me many false starts to finally pin down each ape’s YouTube tastes, and neither I nor Rapunzel appreciated our beloved ritual being cut short before the video’s best part (Curly getting concussed by a cuckoo clock).
Ultimately, the zoo is only open 10AM to 5PM, and that time is precious to me. Yes, official volunteers are welcome outside those hours, but my last interview for the docent program was less than successful. Zookeeper Sharon K. took umbrage with my litany of “weird questions” and I am still appealing her decision. I suspect you lack that same curious spark, but do you also operate without the smallest common sense? Because didn’t I hear you boast that you’d live inside the habitat for a week if Mr. Beast gave you a million dollars? Yeah right, idiot. Like that could ever happen, numbnuts. Besides, some people would do it for free.
As Mark Wahlberg as Captain Leo Davidson so wisely says in the 2001 film Planet of The Apes, “The smarter we get, the more dangerous we become.” Well, you’ve made a very dangerous enemy, kid. I’d stay away from the zoo til you’ve smartened up and done some real living. Maybe eventually you’ll understand that true soul-to-soul connections can transcend a few trivial DNA pairs.
But you’re not there yet. You don’t understand. You dip your toes into my world, bounce cage to cage for a few hours, scarf down a churro, crap your diaper, and move on... Not me. Every morning I wake up and bleed this shit, bitch. This is fucking life or death. You’ve probably never sat down and calculated how many sleeping pills you’d need to stuff in a banana to knock out a juvenile gorilla. Here’s a hint; more than it’d take to put your punk ass down for a forever nap, that’s for certain.
In the Judeo-Christian creation myth, it is understood that God made the Angels first, and that His Heavenly Angels can crossover into our realm. I believe Baby Angela is one such Angel, perfect and divine. She was born in the LA Zoo, but she won’t die there. Oh no. We have big, big plans in place and I’d appreciate it if you and everyone else could please stay out of our way.
Thank you.
Cordially yours,
Reggie H.