ORAN BY MATT HAVER Yesterday in the bath I waited for the water to drain and caught my reflection in the convex overflow plate. Between the foreshortening the reflection the nudity the relaxed pose I'll be damned if one of our arboreal cousins wasn't sitting there in the suds gazing back at me. Albeit short on body hair bereft of orange locks and superhuman strength. But there he sat an animal we share 97 percent of our humanity with. Humanity. If only. It got me thinking. Perhaps the next time we visit the zoo we should spend some time before the bars of the ape enclosure and beg their opinion on the West Bank where their more advanced relatives murder women and children and the elderly by the score over Bronze Age myths to prove whose god is holier by the number of holes shot into hospitals. Or show them a map of the hundreds of schools in the good old USA that righteous, land where children kill children with weapons of war while the adults look on with long faces offering those cheap thoughts and prayers equating to nothing but lazy self-righteous hot air and argue over the books in the library. No. 139
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