Monkey hating brute.

Today, the penutimate day of the Chinese year of the Monkey, two simian bipeds - my wife (an intelligent chimpanzee from the class of 1956) and I (a boneheaded baboon dating back to 1944) - found the answer to a question which has been bothering us for most of the past twelve months.  The question:  why aren't we enjoying our year?  The answer:  we're not supposed to enjoy it, in fact we should have more bad luck and suffering than during any of the other animal years.  Why?  Because a primate hating jerk named Tai Sui has it in for us and for all our fellow monkeys.  The only way to escape his malevolence is to make a lot of noise and wear red clothes.  Oh, if only I had known!  I still have my vuvuzela (made in China) which has been mute since South Africa failed to win the world cup and which would have persuaded Mr. Sui to keep out of earshot.  Somewhere in our apartment is a red sweater and a scarlet shirt which I brought with me from England many years ago and which my wife dislikes so intensely that I dare not wear them, and a pair of red trousers which I bought in a sale nine years ago and soon didn't even need  my spouse's caustic criticism to realize I am definitely not a red trousers man. Alternatively, I could have bought a Father Christmas outfit and a tin drum (both made in China) and spent the year loudly proclaiming my defiance.  Apparently blue and white are also good colours for monkeys, so Nadya could have dressed as Snegurochka (Snow Maiden) and played a recording of her little granddaughter's piano practice whenever the apephobic malefactor appeared.  Well, too late now!  I don't expect or particularly want to be around in 2028, but I'll hang on to my vuvuzela and my red pants just in case!

Hi Larry! I'll have to look up some info as I'm a "Rooster" from April 1945. I have no doubts that this too will be my last year to celebrate.

I believe red undergarments are supposed to be all that's needed to solve any issues in your animal year.

Granny Mae, you're only as old as you feel.  Unfortunately, there are times - especially at 6am on icy winter mornings when I stumble down five flights of stairs with a dog much younger and more active than I am - when I feel as old as Methusalah.  Your posts read as if written by a "millenial" rather than a baby boomer.  Start making preparations now for Rooster year 2029.   

Escaped Lunatic,  we lusty anthropoids don't wear undergarments!

Larry, I'll tell my son to pop up to my grave and raise a glass and wish me and his dad "Gong Xi Fa Cai"

Escaped Lunatic,  we lusty anthropoids don't wear undergarments!

That's why you're doomed for your animal year.

I suppose you could just tie a red ribbon on it and see if that works.