Carl answers the ultimate question

Do crocodiles love?

That's an interesting question, that is.  It doesn't take a lot of imagination to think of stuff that you could say crocs love.  We got wildebeest, fish... puppies...  But that's dinner-love and almost goes without saying.

You might recall an earlier post (June 7 ) where I talked about a cow - a she-croc - emerging dripping and bow-legged from a stinky river.  The Keeper says that makes him think of a human that he knows called Ursula Andress.  But that's not love, that's rumpy-pumpy.  In fact, it's not even that.  It's thinking about rumpy-pumpy.

Crocs understand dinner and they understand rumpy-pumpy. But do they love?  My answer is this:

DO CROCS LOVE?
(Source: scenicreflections.com)

Crocs love the river, slow-flowing and deep.  It supports em while they do the old log-float,; it churns pleasingly when they do the old deathroll; it protects them when they're on the bottom looking up at splashing feet, or oars.  Without the river, the croc is nothing but a washed-up lizard.   The river sees them at their best, and their worst.  You always know where you are with a river.  In it, by it, on it.

For a croc, it's never about the rumpy-pumpy.  Or even the dinner.  It's about having a place.  And that place is a stinky old river, every time.

So I hope that explains the crocodile perspective.

If you want to know more, you can ask me in 'person'.  Just takes a bid...

love,



Carl

Carl takes on the classics

HOMER'S ILLIAD
(Source: Carl's Book Group)

Classics in a croc sense are classic moves.  You know, the old launch-out-of-the-water move; or the ever popular max-RPM-deathroll; or the crazy-belly-run.  That sort of thing.  So when the Keeper suggested I take on the classics in tonight's post, I was like hell yeh.

Well, unless there are any crocs reading, I reckon you won't be surprised to hear that human classics are a bit different.  A lot different.  They're books.  Oh well, when a croc says hell yeh, he's gotta follow thru.

ORWELL'S ANIMAL FARM
(Source: Carl's Book Group)

I started off with Homer's Illiad.  It was really good and everything until the Greeks started getting all sneaky.  Not that there's anything wrong with sneaky, of course: lying-in-wait-underwater is one of the croc classics I was talking about earlier.  No, the problem is, they went for a wooden horse to get into Troy. Obviously, if they wanted a cool, handcrafted, wooden animal, then they missed a trick.

Then I moved on to Animal Farm. That was even better than the last book.  It was like reading a recipe book.  Made me feel hungry.  All animals are entitled to eat, but some are more entitled than others.  Mmm suckling pig.

HARPER LEE'S MOCKINGBIRD
(Source: Carl's Book Group)

The last book I read was To Kill A Mockingbird.  That one was really weird.  I started off thinking it was about hunting for snacks, but it didn't turn out that way at all.  All them mockingbirds and finches and no crunchy treats to speak of.

Well, all in all it was a pretty ok evening, and I had a chance to bring the full force of a Crocodile-theoretical  analytical framework to three works of human fiction.  What do I mean 'human fiction'!  Silly Carl.  That's like saying crocodile biteyness.

Fiction is always human coz it's made-up.  Just like crocs are always bitey.

Happy reading/biting,



Carl

Carl says "Hiya"

You know, it ain't easy being a wooden crocodile.  Oh sure, you get polished and shit.  You get prime placement on top of a storage heater in a tastefully decorated front room.  Yeh, you get all that.  But where's the respect?

Talking of respect... do you know I was an "exhibit", a "product" if you will (can you imagine) on eBay recently?  I know.  Flipping unbelieveable.  You know the worst part?  I didn't sell.  The indignity.

Check it out.  It makes me feel ill:

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=160585830157&ssPageName=STRK:MEUSX:IT

Suffice it to say that 99p wasn't a serious price.  I mean... just take a look at my goddamn woodgrain.  Sweet, or what?

Well.  I will be blogging until the end of June about my life, my loves... OK, my life.  Ok, my woodenness.  Whatever.  But come the end of June, you could be bidding for a reptilian legend.

Come on sweethearts... don't make me deathroll your ass...

Love

Carl