A Satire

Climbing is actually fun...who would have guessed?

Swamp Donkey Disco

Unknown to many people in this world, there exists a rare breed of awesomely handsome and beautiful humans. These people are savvy and fit.. They are one of a kind. They have great hair and are able to do pull ups with only two fingers! Spandex pant and bright neon colored shirts adorn their bodies. These more than human superstars are ROCK CLIMBERS!!! These supernaturally awesome rock climbers are semi related to meadow fairies, and consequently have opted out of education, and the nine to five job lifestyle. Living in the woods, climbing cliffs and mountains alike, they never shower or cut their hair, for that would be a major disgrace to their meadow fairy ancestry.

Sometimes, when not climbing, climbers love to frolic buck naked through grassy meadows filled with flowers; especially Flea’s Bane, which is one of their most favorite flowers, with which they weave through their hair and make flower chains to wear around their necks. In regard to diet, climbers tend to eat lots of plain rice and oatmeal, and drink a special tea made from the Yerba Mate plant, which is native to Argentina. GU Energy Gel packets are an occasional treat, and are eaten on rare occasions. For instance when a climber is going to attempt to climb a freakishly janky hard climbing route, he or she might partake of a GU Energy Gel Packet. However, a climber’s favorite meal would be the sacrificial feast of a non-climber, who might have stumbled into their domain. The climbing clan will lure the unsuspecting soul deeper into the wilderness where its cries for help will not be heard. They then will presume to knock the victim over the head with a #2 slider nut and then yell “BEST CLIMB IN DA’ REFUGE!” I will leave the eating of the victim to the imagination of the reader…

Climbers sleep in caves in the winter time, and when the cloudy grey skies cry. However, in the summer when the temperatures are mild and warm, and the skies are clear of those dreary rain clouds, you will find climbers lying and sleeping in the dirt, face up gazing at the stars; searching the stars. As the cool night air blows, pulling the tall rustling grass over their bodies, they stare. They lay motionless, and listen intently, as if someone dead and gone from this life, who is now living among the stars is going to touch their soul, whispering in their ear the secrets and meanings of life. Climbers are a people of love, and searchers of happiness.

Climbers tend to be sappy romantics. Because one can’t be climbing all the time, there is much down time in the wild wilderness. This gives the climber a chance to practice his or her favorite hobby. Some choose to knit or crochet, and then sell their hand made goods to goat herding gypsies. However most are poets, and writers. Dreamers of challenges, romance, hardship, in which the climber always gets the guy or girl and wins the battle of course. Mostly though, these poets are searchers. And by searchers I mean voyagers, yearning for something more in life than the prison of a desk job, counting some Big Man’s money. They are searchers for joy and happiness. For beauty and love in the outdoors, and when they find those beautiful things in the great wild, they try their best to connect with it; to become one with it, feeling the mountain’s, or cliff’s, or forest’s energy flowing through their veins, intoxicating their lungs as they breathe deeply of that sweet lucid mountain air.

There is not much that a climber fears in this world. Perhaps death, it just depends on the context. For example, being killed by a bear while you fight the majestic creature to the death would not be bad, for that is a good death. Falling and busting your skull open spilling what little brains you have down the cliff, and it then raining down on your friends who are watching below, also is not a bad death, for you died doing what you loved. However, dying a slow painful death, as a captive of civilization, a soldier of conformity, as an old man sitting in an office building some place far far away, with your eyes hypnotized by a calculator, and your heart locked away in a safe deposited box…now that is a scary death indeed.

All in all climbers are good people, who just love to experience the joy to be had by living in the moment, and tacking advantage of every opportunity. Which many people in this world can’t begin to even say they do, and that, dear reader, is the saddest part of all. So if you ever feel like taking an adventure, I tell GO! Get out there and romp around in the great wilderness! Just be careful not to enter into the Climber’s domain, for you might find yourself bashed over the head with a #2 slider nut, and the main course of a sacrificial feast. Or even worse, you might find yourself converted to their religion. Your hair suddenly will be long and adorned with Flea’s Bane, you will smell…really bad, as the meadow fairies possess your soul. Worst of all you just might find yourself in love with the wilderness. So be careful if venture into the outdoors. You have been warned.

" A Critique"

The above "essay" I originally wrote as a satire assignment for my English Comp. class, and later thought I might explain myself a bit, should anyone misunderstand...


A critique of “Swamp Donkey Disco”

In my satire, “Swamp Donkey Disco”, my main argument, is that climbers are not mindless spandex wearing bums who have disassociated themselves from society to form a modern breed of weed smoking hippies. However, it is also meant to differentiate between those who are dedicated to the sport and those who go to college and climb a two foot wall at the local student gym, and then presume to venture out into the world and call themselves “accomplished climbers” of all sorts. Now that comment might seem a little hypocritical, but I believe necessary to bring to light the main point of my argument, and that is, that climbing isn’t about giving up all you have to be a dirt bag and live out in the woods or in a cave, climbing the hardest routes possible. It also isn’t about wearing a harness, chalk bag, and shoes that you bought with daddy’s money, and then telling your non climbing friends how cool you are, while you sport your sticker covered Naglene bottle. Climbing is about venturing out into nature, searching for beautiful climbs, beautiful mountains and formations; then connecting with them; through climbing the cliff, hiking the mountain, watching the sunrise or sunset, fishing, or hunting. There are many ways. The most important thing is to enjoy the wonderful outdoors while you still can. To get out and experience great and passionate things, and not live a life obsessed with nothing but money money money.

I would say that my satire is written as an exaggeration, with a lot of incongruity, and a good touch of reversal. Obviously climbers and adventures alike don’t run buck naked through fields of flowers. They also are not super human, and are not related to meadow fairies, however if meadow fairies existed, they would be. Also most people who fancy to call themselves a “rock climber” don’t live all out in the woods, with no job, totally separated from society, however, I will say that there are actually some who have, and still do live , or attempt to live this life style .

I chose to write this way, because honestly it just felt good, it rolled out of my mind and off my tongue easily, and it made me laugh, and my amusement secretly is the soul purpose of this assignment.
While writing, I did wonder if anyone else would find it amusing, or even understand a word that I was saying. (But it doesn’t really matter, because the world revolves around me) I figure that people who love climbing or dare associate themselves with the sport would get a kick out of what I am trying say, and might like my argument and thoughts I bring to light.

I did find it a little troubling to come up with and idea and approach to this essay at first. Its not that I have trouble making fun of myself and fellow fairy worshipers, more that I was having trouble tying in my deeper and more meaningful points, which I still don’t know if I have done with any skill or success. I love to write, and tried to have fun, and I think that is really what a satire is about.

“Swamp Donkey Disco”, that title itself, has nothing to do with anything in the essay; I just thought I should be consistent with my attempts to baffle the reader with ridiculous and pointless titles.

Images

View A Satire Image Gallery - 1 Images