I realise that I have been silent for some while now and thought that, were anyone to be truly dedicated to these little rambles (in the verbal sense, not in the sense requiring feet – although the latter of those is very good for you. Do it.) they may be wondering where all my words have gone. ‘Have they dried up?’ you may be thinking, ‘has this veritable wordsmith reached his verbal menopause?’ Nothing of that sort I can assure you good readers. I merely failed to find anything suitably intriguing or uncommon about which to write: a caesura in my thoughts if you will.
My theme on this joyous day is none other than the caribou. Some of you may be thinking ‘why does he not address it by its more common and internationally recognised name: the reindeer?’. The answer to this is quite simple dear friends. Namely to use the term ‘reindeer’ may lower the tone by as good as forcing me to make such base puns around monarchs, weather and overpriced goods. And that would be as sad for me, honest people, as for you.
The caribou is a horned beast commonly found in Canada and North America, Scandinavia and some other Northern places on which I shall not dwell. It is a creature not unlike a goat except that it is viewed rather more favourably in children’s tales. Also there is a key difference in that apart from having horns and four legs and fur and milk producing abilities and probably a couple of other things (I never professed to know even a single thing about a caribou – or a goat) they are nothing alike.
PAUSE FOR A MOMENT OF INTROSPECTION AND REFLECTION ON THE TRUE SCOPE OF MY IGNORANCE
The nose of a caribou is uncommonly soft for a creature that stores its nose so close to its mouth however this can be explained by considering the caribous peculiar propensity for cladding all its meals in a soft lichen so as not to scrape its delicate facial ornament. This evolutionary adaptation has proven most dreadful for the gentle caribou which in now hunted for its velvety appendage in which there is a roaring trade for the nose of the caribou – if harvested at the right time of year – is shown to have window-buffing qualities the likes of which had never been seen before their discovery in 1924 by famed wit, playwright and novelist Noel Coward. However enough of the caribou. I shall explore other meanings of the word caribou. Did you know that there are three places in the USA called Caribou; one in Colorado, one in California and one in Maine. There is also a region in Canada (which is basically the USA except less dangerous) with this name, although this is spelt Cariboo. Rather like someone were sneaking up on an elk...
Caribou sounds like a beautiful Caribbean island although it actually isn’t. It is a little known fact that one of Jupiter’s moons, as well as one of Uranus’, is named Caribou after the ancient Roman god of carnivals and elbows – odd I know but don’t blame me, it’s not like I just made that up. However perhaps you remain – somewhat unreasonably – dubious as to the authenticity of this fact. I shall explain: the Romans had a great passion for the circus and a Roman carnival was an event not to be missed. People would travel over 300 miles to attend the events which were considered a pilgrimage of sorts in honour of the polytheistic Roman tradition. Within the festivities that would occur throughout the event the people would frolic with such gay abandon as one would only commonly see in modern times at a barn dance – a phenomenon that, while broadly mocked and thought poorly of, forces people to enjoy themselves, often against their will or better judgement. Of course the barn dance, as we all know requires frequent use of the elbow and other joints. It is notably hard to swing yo’ partner round ‘n’ round if neither of you have elbows: an amusing image to consider however. What follows shall be a short break for you to ponder the general hilarity of the mental farce I have played out onto the inside of your skull.
I hope that that is enough time for you to properly appreciate all the images i have graciously bestowed upon you – and if you felt that I was wasting your time then it is entirely your fault for reading this far. Feel free to leave me a message and get on with your tawdry and exceedingly dull life. I shall upon receiving your message post it above and mock it with every literary device I have at my disposal – which, I assure you, is not inconsiderable. But enough of those too dreary to enjoy an effusive, ultimately pointless, discussion. Hence forth I am addressing you dedicated readers. I hope I have some. It is tragic addressing an empty room, doubly so when one doesn’t even know that one is addressing such a people-less void. Thus: The caribou. An insignificant creature, allegedly of some flying ability (although which this is extraordinary I fail to understand, just this morning I spied as I conducted my ablutions a flock of starlings or something similar take to the air as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was, who knew...?) also with massive horns and an irrepressible sexual appetite (allegedly from whence the term stems) not to mention a most desired and sought after nose. I know of a young female answering to the name Iliffe who is very similar, only without the alleged flying ability – hers is verified.
Similarly Caribou is a place name and should be an island but isn’t. Should anyone have a spare unnamed island I suggest you name it Caribou and then let me know as I can cease trying to leave a mark on the world and there will be at least one stupidly named landmass that can attribute its title to me. Oh great delight!
Anyway I shall quit these books, as Wordsworth might add, although I don’t see that it is any of his business – I wish he’d just keep out of things sometimes. I think it is a good idea to stop writing now, lest I write something that proves to be somehow false....
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