Travis, the 200-pound chimpanzee and star of various commercials including Old Navy and Coca-Cola, went a tiny bit ape shit last week and ripped the face off one of his owner's friends causing life threatening injuries. In an attempt to save her human friend, the owner picked up a large butcher knife and began repeatedly stabbing the misguided monkey (you'll say that a chimp is not a monkey and you'll be right, but also an asshole). Travis didn't even notice and continued to maul the poor lady with his ugly stick until he got bored and ran out of the house.
Of course, like an ape in rampage, he got the urge to start destroying things again and went after a cop. The cops began lighting him up with bullets, and yet ole Travis kept a comin' until there were none left. Sadly, the B-list actor retreated back to his cage and died of old age. The official report suggests that Travis lost his mind simply because the lady was wearing her hair differently and he didn't approve…seriously.
This relatively predictable story about a falling star poses an obvious question, with an even more obvious answer: If I was trying to decide between a human or a chimpanzee as a bodyguard, I'd choose the chimp every time.
Uh-oh, looks like somebody forgot to shave today. Jennifer, I thought we talked about not going out in public with that hideous mustache…Let's start with pedigree. There is a good chance that your ape can trace his bloodline to a family member that was either the pioneer of space travel or part of a scientific experiment. That means we are talking about rocket scientists and genetically engineered super freaks—both superior beings. Have you ever heard of hired muscle spawned from brainy folk or that they are superior in any way other than their physical appearance? I hope I am not offending anybody here, but if things were really clicking upstairs, why do none of them ever talk? I think I'll take the more evolved beings here.
Then there is of course the coolness factor. Despite popular belief, you look like a tool when you are paying for people to surround you. For example, I once saw Fabio in an airport. That dude was enormous. He must have been in the mid-sixes in height and his muscles bulged out of his silk shirt as if they were trying to escape from his feminine blonde mane. However, he had four other larger Neanderthals watching his back. There was no escaping the inevitable conclusion that while Fabio could probably eat me, he looked like a total pussy.
The opposite can be said if you're walking side by side with a chimp. Everybody would notice you, but in a good way. They'd all be like, "Who's that dude high fivin' the chimp? He must be important." "Up high" never goes out of style when you got opposable thumbs. I concede that a few people may mistake you for Michael Jackson or direct stupid jokes about molesting children in your direction, but hey, you got a deadly animal by your side—have him rip an arm off of the joker and the rest will fall in line.
People will herald you as an animal lover and compare you to Noah. Nobody has to know that you Michael Vick-ed his ass in order to make him protection ready. You'll just tell everyone how you have a banana orchard in your backyard and a playground the size of Neverland that he spends most of his days frolicking in.
Now for the tactical side. Imagine you are keeping it real at a chic club in the city. This dude steps up to you, violates your personal space, calls you various names, and then threatens to sleep with your mother and sister at the same time. Not cool, right? A human bodyguard would step in, cross his arms, give a three word warning, and wait for a response. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, wouldn't even allow the inconsiderate, incestual remark to begin before he hit the dude with a poo fastball right in the mouth. While the asshole is trying to get the shit out of his teeth, your little buddy will swallow the top of his head.
How would you react to a 200-pound, hairy menace coming at you? Is your first response to try and punch it? Hell no. You're gonna cover your face and try your best not to soil yourself. Even if you were Mike Tyson in his prime, you don't stand a chance against the raging beast. If you thought that you were too much of a man to ever cry again, you were wrong. As long as your tear ducts were still around your eyes, you would be weeping like a bastard. If things got kicked up a notch and you made a last ditch effort for your gun, sorry, Travis already proved he's all the bulletproof vest a baller would ever need. Face it. You just lost badly to an animal that uses his hand as a toilet.
Finally, can you imagine if you were caught hugging a dude you're paying to watch your back? With the slightly less human version that you'll probably name Bongo or Charlie, embracing is adorable. He'll pick some shit out of your hair and make sure you're looking dapper. The only thing you need to remember though is that anytime Bongo puts his arms out like he wants to cuddle, you better do it. There's nothing worse than being on a chimpanzee's shit list.