Monkeys, Shakespeare, and Me
I’m sure you’ve heard of the Infinite Monkey Theorem. It states the following:
If you’re having a child’s birthday party, don’t hire a clown, or a pony, or a big sweaty guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume. Get a monkey in a cowboy hat on a unicycle; your children will have infinitely more fun.
I’m joking, that’s not really the Infinite Monkey Theorem. (But seriously, go with the monkey in the cowboy hat.)
Wikipedia describes the Infinite Monkey Theorem this way:
The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type any given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare. In fact, the monkey would almost surely type every possible finite text an infinite number of times. However, the probability that monkeys filling the observable universe would type a complete work such as Shakespeare’s Hamlet is so tiny that the chance of it occurring during a period of time hundreds of thousands of orders of magnitude longer than the age of the universe is extremely low (but technically not zero).
So, I acquired a couple of monkeys (don’t ask how, it involved unsavory behavior and a yak). I gave them a couple of typewriters and let them go nuts. I wanted to see if there was anything to this Infinite Monkey Theorem. Plus, monkeys are fun.
We got off to a rocky start: there was some feces hurling and some disturbingly lengthy (and quite frankly, hurtful) obscene gesturing, but eventually, they got to work.
While they didn’t reproduce any of the works of Shakespeare, they did type the phrase: Hamlet smells of cheese and Denmark multiple times.
Then something bizarre happened: the monkeys began to reproduce most of the contents of this blog and in shockingly less time than it took me to produce it. They even corrected some of my grammar errors.
And these weren’t the smart type of monkeys that do sign language; these were the type of monkeys eat their own poop, and smoke cigarettes, and one of them was really drunk at the time.
They rewrote several Curious George books, except every book ended with George violently attacking The Man with the Yellow Hat.
Then they started writing limericks about me that were really filthy.
After that they peed on the typewriters and mocked me with their superior verb tense usage.
It was all very disheartening.
I think I’m going to read Hamlet and pretend it was written by a drunken monkey.
Better yet, I’m going to read Curious George books and pretend they were written by a drunken Shakespeare.
Addendum: the monkeys rewrote this post too, and it was better than this crappy version.