I am 10+ year member of the Oregon Zoo. Sure, I like animals. But, I just received the most ridiculous birthday party invitation. It was from an elephant -- "Packy."
I continue to be surprised at the lengths human beings will go to leverage events to the nth degree to make a buck. When I get invited to celebrate someone's birthday, I am not given 500 opportunities (depending on my donation or gift level) to pay homage. Why can't we just have some cake (albeit a gigantic one) and ice cream, some candles and call it a day?
"Hey Kids! Come celebrate Packy's birthday! For a tax-deductible donation of just $25 you can get a complementary bag of 'Packy's Patty's' for your Mom's garden. If you want your garden basil to grow as tall as Packy, you'll want to get here early to avoid the lines!"
For a donation of just $50, you can get some of Packy's toe nail clippings (Hint:these make great gifts).
And, for a donation of $100 or more, Packy will use his trunk to splash some paint on a piece of paper for you. Yes, Packy is an artist.
Of course he's an artist. He's been in prison for a half-century.
I recently had the opportunity to interview Packy in the prison, err I mean Zoo, visitor center. Zoo officials sat close by in order to monitor our conversation, though this reporter politely refused to allow Zoo officials to edit or review the answers.
Reporter: Packy, you were born in prison. And from the looks of you, it does not seem to have bothered you much.
Packy: Three squares and two hours in the yard a day. Someone to hose you off and scrub you down and all the free hay, healthcare and drugs I need. I live better than most people. Got a roof over my head and a concrete floor to nap on. Life's pretty good. Besides, I am used to it by now.
Reporter: But, don't you think it would've been better to grow up in the wild?
Packy: Elephant's live in the wild? (Pauses). I am kidding! Of course they do. Naw. I ain't that kind of elephant. (Laughs). Besides, I am lazy as hell. Don't like to work.
Reporter: I see that you paint.
Packy: Sure, I enjoy flinging a paint brush around. The people at the Zoo (glancing over his enormous shoulder) spend weeks trying to find meaning in my art. It's hilarious. I am just flinging paint around like a drunk kindergartner and everyone thinks it's a sign of some higher intelligence. I mean...look at me. I am g'damn elephant! The only thing I can draw is flies.
Reporter: What else keeps you busy?
Packy: Showers. Especially when Zookeeper Tammy scrubs my privates. (Giggles).
Reporter: So you are allowed conjugal visits.
Packy: Yeah. You could call it that, I guess. There are other elephant's here, though. These damn keepers are always trying to get us to, uh, you know, get it going on. It makes me laugh. Just the other night after visitors hours were over, Tammy put Marvin Gaye's "Let's get it on" on the loudspeaker. She set the lights down low in the cage, fed me and what's her name some fresh hay and then began to push us close together with sticks. My boys need a lot of room to breath; all that effort ain't gonna cut it in a cage. Besides, I need some g'damn privacy.
Reporter: Have you ever thought of escaping?
Packy: From what?
Reporter: The Zoo?
Packy: Why?
Reporter: Because you are in a cage?
Packy: You serious, man? This is a great gig. I sleep when I want. Eat when I want. Step in my own droppings when I want. Pee on the zoo keepers when I want. I especially enjoy that; drenches them to the skin. They walk out of the cage sloshing in their boots; makes me crack up every time. Priceless.
Reporter: People say you like practical jokes.
Packy: Yeah, I like a good laugh. What I really like to do is break wind in the direction of people who talk on cell phones near my pen. What the hell. Here they come to the zoo with their kids and all they can do is yack on the damn phone? What is wrong with these people? Believe me, they get out of their quick when I send a little "poison air" their way.
Reporter: Do you have a cell phone.
Packy: (Long pause). Are you stupid?
Reporter: Sorry.
Packy: I would like to make a suggestion.
Reporter: What's that.
Packy: Maybe you could report that my feet are killing me. I need some rubber mats or something in here. The concrete floors are really not very ergonomic. Maybe Nike can grind up some shoes and make a soft floor for me. Can you let 'em know about that?
Reporter: Sure, Packy. Any last thoughts?
Packy: Yeah, got a cigarette? This g'damn patch is the size of a mouse diaper.
