There's been a proliferation of monkeys in both blogspace and meatspace, recently.

And with that, Solonor begins his blog full of monkeys, in which he provides monkey links, monkey musings, monkey conversations and monkey anecdotes.

Monkey monkey monkey.

Don't you love that word?

I had a friend who agreed with me (I cannot recall if it were her or my own original assertion) that "Everything is funnier with monkeys." One of my earliest memories was the moment I suddenly declared, for reasons that were then obscure to me, "Monkeys are my favorite animal." On and off through my childhood, I had a friend who drifted in and out of town that for years was known by the name "Monkey". And who can forget, "Hey, hey we're the Monkees..."?

Solonor most understandably misses some fine monkey opportunities—so many fine monkeys abound! For instance, there are two of my favorite blogs: Government Monkey and Banana Counting Monkey. Of course, Jonah Goldberg would strip me of my Warblogger badge (hey, maybe we chickenbloggers should wear badges, eh?) if I failed to at least mention the infamous Cheese Eating Surrender Monkeys. Plus, in the spirit of Solonor's "Best Monkey Movies Ever" I submit that the best monkey reference in literature is to be found within Douglas Adams' The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

"Ford!" he said, "there's an infinite number of monkeys outside who want to talk to us about this script for Hamlet they've worked out!"

Finally, no monkey compendium is "compleat" without reference to this nasty-yet-hillarious tale, forwarded across the Internet for what now must be ages:

I like monkeys.

I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.

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