All The Happy Animals

2008-02-24T06:04:00.000-08:00

BAILANDO :: 1
The happy moose skipped down the street. He stopped in front of the happy raccoon. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am practicing my happy dance," she said.

LUJURIA :: 2
The happy raccoon made a happy moose face.

The happy moose smiled. He loved the happy raccoon. The happy raccoon skipped lightly when she walked. The happy raccoon skipped lightly, but in a postmodern way that made the happy moose feel things.

MAREADO :: 3
The first thing I want to say," said the happy squirrel, "is that all of this 'post-modernist' crap is making all of us look bad."

"I agree," said the happy bunny.

"As do I," said the happy blue jay.

SOBRESALTAR :: 4
The happy raccoon walked slowly to the library.

She was determined to find a novel that did not use self-pity, ingratiating sarcasm or apocalyptic pessimism. She was a seasoned, appreciative reader of post modernism and meta-fiction.

VENTAJOSA :: 5
The happy moose skipped down the street.

He encountered the happy raccoon at the library reading a John Barth novel about a 'Candide-like' innocent who sets out to write a heroic epic, becomes disillusioned, and instead writes a biting satire.

TRISTEMENTE :: 6
The happy moose went into the 7-11, where the happy raccoon was mixing vanilla flavored creamer into a cup of coffee.

The happy moose grabbed a Mountain Dew and one of those quesadilla roll things. The happy moose smiled at the happy raccoon. He thought to himself, "Damn, that raccoon has a fine looking ass."

BAILANDO

2008-02-08T07:43:00.001-08:00

The happy raccoon was practicing her happy dance.

The happy moose skipped down the street. He stopped in front of the happy raccoon. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am practicing my happy dance," she said.

"What kind of dance is that?" asked the happy moose.

"It's called tap," said the happy raccoon. "I am using my feet like a drum to create rhythmic patterns and timely beats."

"Why are you doing that?" asked the happy moose.

"I am on an arc of self discovery," said the happy raccoon.

"Is it a smooth arc?" asked the happy moose.

"No," said the happy raccoon, "not always."

"How so?" asked the happy moose.

"Well, sometimes you pick the wrong dance," said the happy raccoon. "The first dance I picked was Hip-Hop. But I was not very good at it."

"I can see how the emergence of a 'commercial' and 'crime-related' rap during the early 1990s would turn you off to the Hip-Hop lifestyle," said the happy moose.

The happy raccoon stopped dancing. "I wasn't exactly looking to adopt the lifestyle," said the happy raccoon. "I was only hoping to use the dance as an effective form of self expression."

"Well, I have found that the type of dancing I person likes often reflects their own personal style," said the happy moose. "For instance, my happy dance is a reaction to the compositional and presentational constraints of modern literature."

"That's very interesting," said the happy raccoon.

The happy moose nods and begins dancing. He smiles at the happy raccon. She smiles back.

"You really aren't a good dancer," said the happy moose.

"I know," said the happy raccoon.

It is the beginning of their love affair.

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved

LUJURIA

2008-02-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

The happy raccoon made a happy moose face.

The happy moose smiled. He loved the happy raccoon. The happy raccoon skipped lightly when she walked. The happy raccoon skipped lightly, but in a postmodern way that made the happy moose feel things.

"I love the way you skip," said the happy moose.

"I love the way you watch me skip," said the happy raccoon.

The happy moose made a happy raccoon face.

"You're not doing it right," she said.

"How is it done, then?" he said. He felt slightly embarrassed at being corrected by the happy raccoon.

"My happy raccoon face shows the widespread changes to the experience of everyday life that have occurred in the last twenty-five years," said the happy raccoon.

The happy moose shifted in his seat.

"You think a lot of yourself," said the happy moose. "Your happy raccoon face is devoted to 'surface appearance' and 'easy gratification' and is therefore harder to critique."

After he said it, he thought, "That didn't sound good."

"That didn't sound good," said the happy raccoon. "I think my happy raccoon face is an extremely effective visual representation of the postmodern experience."

The happy moose began to feel threatened. The happy moose felt suddenly burdened by his love for the happy raccoon. He began to be convinced that no matter how lightly she skipped, and no matter how much joy and satisfaction her skipping brought him, the feelings of joy and satisfaction felt from the skipping could never overcome the feelings of being threatened that he was now feeling. He wondered if is this was just a quasi-emotion.

"This is excessive information," said the happy moose. "Can we just go back to our playful flirtation?"

"How can we go back? asked the happy raccoon. "How can we just forget what happened? It's out there."

The moose thought for a moment.

"If I think we are happy," he said, "then we are happy."

"How can that be true?" she said.

"Because thought is matter," he said. "If we think we are happy, we are happy. No matter if we are truly happy or not."

"Okay," said the happy raccoon, "We can give it a try."

The happy raccoon made a happy moose face. In her mind she thought about the happy animals able to coexist spatially, but unable to connect emotionally.

The happy moose made a happy raccoon face. In his mind he engaged in an abstract social critique at the expense the happy raccoon.

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved

MAREADO

2008-02-08T07:21:00.000-08:00

The happy animals gathered in the media center for a 'come to Jesus' meeting that had been called by the principal of the elementary school where they all taught.

The happy raccoon and the happy moose were conspicuously absent from the meeting, having been sent to a math conference in Charlotte sponsered by the Department of Public Instruction.

"The first thing I want to say," said the happy squirrel, "is that all of this 'post-modernist' crap is making all of us look bad."

"I agree," said the happy bunny.

"As do I," said the happy blue jay.

The room erupted into spontaneous chatter. The principal cleared her throat and raised her '#1 finger' to indicate that all of the happy animals should shut the hell up.

"This meeting lacks a clear, central hierarchy," said the principal. "We need an organizing rule of good behavior to follow."

The room fell silent.

"Thank you," she said.

"Now, we all agree that the happy raccoon and the happy moose are all doing a disservice to the school by causing extreme complexity, contradiction, ambiguity, diversity, and interconnectedness."

The room fell into general agreement. The happy squirrel snacked on a package of hot fries. The happy bunny sent a text to her boyfriend.

"And we all agree that there should be less sarcasm, fragmentation, provisionality and incoherence in the classroom."

Again the room fell into general agreement. The happy bluejay scribbled something on a piece of paper and passed it to the happy bobcat. The happy bobcat raised an eyebrow and nodded his head in agreement.

"The question is," said the principal, "how do we go about doing this?"

"I think we should kill the happy raccoon," shouted the happy blue jay.

"And the happy moose," added the happy bunny. "I told you when you hired him that he wasn't going to fit in." The happy bunny put a hand on her hip. The happy bunny pointed a finger at the principal. The happy blue jay averted her eyes and mouthed a silent 'oh my God' to the happy bobcat.

"Always so concerned with his own status as a production," said happy squirrel, "as if he were someone constructed to be consumed in a particular way. Always with the: I'm a moose, look at me being a moose, look at me pretending to be a chicken but still looking like a moose."

The room errupted once again.

The principal held up her '#1 finger' again. The room fell silent.

The happy fox stood up and cleared his throat. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, "but aren't we talking about 'modernity' as opposed to 'modernism'?

"He's right," said the happy lynx. "How can we hope to combat a modernity? Doesn't the very mention of a philosophy mean that its ideas have already taken root in the society?"

The room buzzed with questions. The happy bobcat sipped tea from a porcelin cup.

The principal cleared her throat. "We all know that knowledge produced by science is truth," said the principal. She said it without forming quotation marks with her fingers when saying the word truth. "And we all agree," she continued, "that the knowledge/truth produced by science will always lead toward progress and perfection."

The happy fox nodded. The happy bobcat tapped his foot and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What we need to do," she said, "is convince the happy raccoon and the happy moose that freedom in the classroom consists of obedience to the laws that conform to the knowledge discovered by reason."

"Here, here," said the happy bunny.

"Perfectly said," added the happy blue jay.

"So," said the principal, "I have decided that we should spilt up into three groups and discuss the matter. Each group will need a reader, a responder, a note taker, and an arbitrator. The reader will read the articles I am now passing out (she nodded to the happy bear, the assisstant principal, to begin passing out the material), and explain the material to the group. The responder will tell the entire faculty what the reader said. The note-taker will take notes at all of the meetings to meet legal liability requirements. And the arbitrator will come tell me when there is a problem."

The room fell silent again. The happy fox began to sweat. "You want to be the reader," he whispered to the happy bunny. "I'm not a very good reader.

"The groups will each assess knowledge as truth (its technical quality), knowledge as goodness or justice (its ethical quality) and knowledge as beauty (its aesthetic quality)," she said. "Each group will come up with suggestions for a 'School Improvement Plan' as related to truth, justice, and beauty. We will come back together in a few weeks and decide which of the suggestions should form the actual school plan. Then each faculty member will be expected to adhere to the plan. This way we can avoid confusion and the school will be operating under one seamless plan that parents, civic leaders, and other educators can reference when needed."

The happy blue jay rolled her eyes. "I don't see why we couldn't just kill them," she said under her breath. "Now we're going to have to have another meeting."

The happy bunny agreed. The happy animals all stood and walked slowly back to their classrooms, having sensed intuitively that the meeting had now come to an end.

In Charlotte, the happy raccoon and the happy moose learned a method of teaching mathematics that involved reading The True Story of the Three Little Pigs by a Wolf, by John Sciezka (Penguin, 1997), and challenging students with questions such as: "If the pigs' lawyer needs to be paid, which of the following payment methods works better?"

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved

SOBRESALTAR

2008-02-08T07:14:00.000-08:00

The happy raccoon walked slowly to the library.

She was determined to find a novel that did not use self-pity, ingratiating sarcasm or apocalyptic pessimism. She was a seasoned, appreciative reader of post modernism and meta-fiction.

She was not looking for a story that could be enjoyed, but rather a frenetic mock-18th century tale abounding in heroes, villains, fools, plots, and counter plots.

The happy moose strolled by holding an umbrella.

“That is a fancy looking umbrella,” said the happy raccoon.

“It is a postmodern umbrella,” said the happy moose. “It has a tendency toward a hysteria over the satirical.”

The happy raccoon nodded. “I have a toaster like that,” she said.

The happy raccoon was wearing a red sweater. There was an eggplant embroidered on the sweater. The eggplant was her totem, her spiritual symbol.

The happy raccoon and the happy moose had the following exchange:

“Yes. Well, wow.”

“Right on.”

“Surely… goodness. Mercy.”

“The Society are (sic) not unloved.”

The happy raccoon spoke in first-person plural narration.

The happy moose spoke in a tone brimming with the mental energy of experimental ’60s nihilism.

They pretended to understand what the other had said. They each laughed politely in response.

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved

VENTAJOSA

2008-02-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

The happy moose skipped down the street.

He encountered the happy raccoon at the library reading a John Barth novel about a 'Candide-like' innocent who sets out to write a heroic epic, becomes disillusioned, and instead writes a biting satire.

"I want to date you," said the happy moose.

"You are too tall," said the happy raccoon. "I only date men who are smaller than me."

"I can make myself smaller," said the happy moose. "I like the idea of being small."

The happy raccoon shook her head. "I only date men who are literary geniuses. Someone who can match my intellect."

The happy moose frowned. "I could be a literary genius."

"Prove it," said the happy raccoon.

"What? Like, now?" said the happy moose.

The happy raccoon smiled. "When would you like to go out?"

"I've changed my mind," said the happy moose. "I only date women with long brown hair and spiral perms."

"Oh," said the raccoon.

The happy moose picked up a 'GQ' magazine and skipped away.

The happy raccoon sat down and cried. She felt something in her heart move, and it felt like love.

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved

TRISTEMENTE

2008-02-08T06:44:00.000-08:00

The happy moose skipped down the street.

"I'm so happy," he said. "I feel like something great is going to happen today. Perhaps I will meet the love of my life."

The happy moose went into the 7-11, where the happy raccoon was mixing vanilla flavored creamer into a cup of coffee.

The happy moose grabbed a Mountain Dew and one of those quesadilla roll things. The happy moose smiled at the happy raccoon. He thought to himself, "Damn, that raccoon has a fine looking ass."

The happy raccoon could feel his eyes upon her.

The happy moose walked over to the raccoon. Their eyes locked in a fierce embrace.

"I feel like dancing tonight," said the happy moose. He raised his arms above his head and shook his hips.

"I love dancing," said the happy raccoon.

The happy moose smiled. He felt something in his heart move, and it felt like love.

The raccoon thought, "I need to remember to DVR that National Geographic special on prairie dogs tonight."

Copyright 2008 Mazie Louise Montgomery
All Rights Reserved