Jun 07 - May 28th Is A Sad, Sad Day
By Stefano Blanca Sciacaluga
I’ve just about managed to dry my eyes, mate. I've been quite upset for a number of weeks now, which is why I've been a little quiet on here, and in the past week and a half I’ve been recovering from what's been making me upset, the saddest day of the year, May 28th.
As it turns out the 28th of May has been a pretty busy date, historically. Known worldwide as International Menstrual Hygiene Day, the 28th of May also saw the first of the legendary Isle of Man TT Races in 1907, and the founding of German automobile manufacturer Volkswagen; yes, by the German Labour Front, the Nazi version of Unite the union.
The 28th of May also saw the births of several people of note, such as Ian Fleming, the guy that wrote quite possibly the most ridiculous of characters, James Bond, in 1908; or the fantastic singer, the Empress of Soul, Gladys Knight, in 1944; and the not-so-fantastic and rather boring and empress of nothing, not even her bathroom, Kylie Minogue, in 1968; and American singer-songwriter Adam Green in 1981, who's pretty great, has a bunch of good records and did a really nice one with Binki Shapiro (not the Binki from here with the jams, another one, with other kinds of jams).
But as I said, and keeping into account all these events are pretty happy and to be celebrated, May 28th is truly the saddest day of the year. Forget all other sad days of the year, like the 14th of last October, when Shaun Garcia de los Glacis dropped a half eaten kebab as he twisted his ankle on the edge of the pavement by Gaucho's at 4am (it was a Friday, I checked). Or famous deaths such as Edward VIII in 1972, Eric Morecambe (from Morecambe and Wise) in 1984, or actor Phil Hartman in 1998, or even everybody's favourite brown little young old big actor man, Gary Coleman in 2010. Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Willis?
All of these days were sad, fair enough, but let's forget them because the saddest day of all time was May 28th, 2016, when I lost one of my biggest inspirations, a true unsung hero, victim of one of the biggest and most unjust crimes of the century, an angel on earth and now, of course, in heaven. I am indeed talking about my man Harambe.
On May the 28th of 2016 Harambe, a seventeen year old western lowland gorilla was shot dead in his enclosure at the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Garden, Cincinnati, US of A, by a zoo employee after an unattended three year old, son of a true ape, fell into his enclosure. He had just turned seventeen on the 27th of May, en la flor de vida como aquel que dice, didn't even get a chance to get a car, not because he wasn't allowed, because the driving age in the US is of sixteen, but because he was doing afternoon shifts at the zoo's tuck shop trying to make some extra cash to pay for lessons. He didn't even get to drink a beer, or the warm blood of the three year old child. All he wanted to do was save the child and bring him back to safety, we know this because he looked like he was waving his arms in a way as to say "let me fix this situation", and also because monkey lady Jane Goodall held a seance and found out like three days after the incident.
Just writing about it is making me tear up, so I'm going to take a break and come back to this, you won't notice as the line will follow from this one but please have faith that I am not lying to you. So I don't know how much you guys are on the internet, probably not a lot, but let me tell you, websites went wild, even Google, for the death of Harambe. Vigils were held all over the world, I was gifted three or four Harambe t-shirts and a few days later Harambe was replaced by a lower-grade robot Bonobo, they even got the monkey wrong.
Now a year on and people are still talking about how Harambe affected their lives, how influential he was and how that three year old boy is someday going to be a pickup truck-driving hillbilly with ten kids knocking about in the back. As I wipe the last of my tears from my cheeks until next year, I'll leave you with a beautiful poem written by Terry Hoffman, some lady on the internet from Washington, US (not where Harambe died).
Always in our hearts, sweet prince, male reproductive organs out for Harambe.
Harambe
Harambe, he enjoyed his life,
had nothing much to do.
He sat around and ate all day
in the Cincinnati Zoo.
Born in Texas in ninety-nine,
to Ohio then he went.
He only lived there sixteen months,
before his life was spent.
He was a massive silver back,
largest gorillas known.
He led and supervised his troop
like a king upon a throne.
Was destined to become a dad
when he had grown some more.
Mara and Chewie were his girls;
both of them he did adore.
One day there was a little boy,
who tried to get quite near.
He fell into Harambe's cage
and the folks began to fear.
He tried to save the boy that day.
Confused with all the din,
perhaps he was somewhat too rough
and thought that the boy was kin.
That little boy was standing there
when they shot Harambe dead.
He knew not what was happening,
he was not feeling dread.
The moral of this sad, sad tale
is don’t get in a cage,
neither man nor "savage" beast,
you'll both feel mankind's rage.
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