février 13, 2004

Sad Little Creatures

Yesterday in Biology 107, my professor lectured on one of the most common blunders occuring in film today: the lies Disney teaches kids about animals.

Her story featured the box office smash Finding Nemo. “Remember how the mommy clown fish dies in the beginning, leaving the father alone to raise that one little egg that got left behind?” she asked. Yes, I remember…

“And remember how that little egg turned into Nemo, and the father-son relationship was even more special since Nemo was the last one left?” Yes, it was a special relationship, Professor…

“Well in reality, if that father clownfish had his whole family wiped out except one egg, he would have changed his gender so he was a female, waited for that egg to hatch, and eventually mated with his son, little Nemo.”

So, one point for Disney, sadly, as nobody would dare argue that an Oedipus complex plus transgendered Dad equals an $844 million dollar grossing movie. It might be a good documentary on E, though.

And shpeeking of biology…

I have as of late observed a tiny tragedy in our thriving Cement Horizon habitat: the absence of one of my favorite creatures, the Zembla. It’s quite possible that the elusive and often aloof Zembla could be hiding in one of the many lush folders or leafy links that the CH environment has to offer. Maybe the Zembla is napping, or tending to it’s version of domestic duties. But it’s been so long that I’m forced to wonder, has the Zembla gone extinct?

What a tragedy it would be if this clever creature’s time in Cement Horizon has passed. It’s a shame to think of the rest of the Blog-dwellers, some of whose very existence was brought about by the ferocious wit and graceful sentence structure offered by the Zembla. How will we carry on? What will the White Ponies, the Sushis, the Law-fighters and the Cookie-Frosters do without their beloved neighbor? That is a question I simply cannot answer.

So I beg of you, all Blog-dwellers, residents, and even occasional visitors of the Cement Horizon region: should you see a Zembla - even just one, even if it is a tiny little thing struggling for air or eloquence - nurture it. Laugh at it, comment on it, do anything you can to force the Zembla to reclaim it’s rightful place among the many others thriving in the CH habitat.

Zembla, Cement Horizon is out of balance without you.

Posted by robyn at février 13, 2004 02:42 PM
Comments

Disney does lie. Not only about biology, but also about history and life in general. I mean, the day I realized that I wasn't really a princess and that prince charming wasn't going to save me from my crappy life and whisk me away to his palace to live happily ever after, I raised my fist to the air and cursed the names of Walt Disney and the even newer and more devious, Michael Eisner. How many other young children will have to learn the hard way about the gender-switching and incest going on among clownfish, and that life is in no way at all like a fairly tale? Happy Valentine's Day, all.

Posted by: Kristina at février 14, 2004 07:46 PM


God bless you for the shout out to Zembla...i too am going through extreme withdrawals from the most dynamic and witty blog in existence. things are just not the same without a zembla in the house. :(

Posted by: Adrienne at février 15, 2004 04:40 AM

Word.
I miss the Zembla.
I shall lay traps around my house and hope one wanders in, that I may detain it and force it to entertain me with wit.

Posted by: kati at février 15, 2004 07:41 PM

disney is also partially, if not single-handedly responsible for the myth that lemmings commit mass suicide. in a documentary they filmed a rather small group of lemmings running around on a giant turntable, thereby creating the illusion of a throng of lemmings. for the next shot they forced them off a cliff and filmed them from below.

Posted by: holohan at février 16, 2004 10:15 AM

my nabokov prof keeps referencing zembla and i get all confused. come back, sean! reclaim the name you have rightfully stolen!

Posted by: didofoot at février 18, 2004 08:45 AM
Cementhorizon