Submitted by mojo on
Oh, my. Remember the Coconut Monkey God? If you don't and you wish to be in on the joke, just search for it over on the mojocrap blog. If you do remember and you are now angry with me for bringing up that screeching nightmare, I'm sorry, but someone has to speak of Unpleasant Things sometimes, and if not Mojo, who else? Some insensitive clod? No, trust me, if things need to be unpleasant it is better to have the bland politeness that is Mojo as opposed to, say, someone who swears a lot. Unless it is the sort of unpleasantness that requires swearing, which sometimes happens, even in Mojo's otherwise Perfect World. But my Favorite Mother reads this, and even if I got such unoriginal dreck past the eBay people (and as much as Bad Language people are really trying to SHOCK you, it's like, c'mon, SO dull and predictable...) I would then have to put up with the Maternal Lectures with titles like You Didn't Learn Such Behavior In MY House and I Must Say I Really Didn't Care Much For How You Chose To Express Yourself; Really, You Are A Better Person Than That And I Had Much Higher Expectations.
Anyway, part of the extremely limited appeal of the Coconut Monkey God was the simple fact that--as much as we love them, now, don't we? I mean, they DID give the world Mojo, didn't they?--my poor deluded parental units actually packed this whole giant ugly coconut carving in their suitcases and lugged it several thousand miles from a tropical paradise to the nasty busy Type-A atmosphere of the East Coast. I mean, let's face it: things carved out of coconuts just really don't fit in with Yankee decor, do they? You just don't think of some tough wirey cow farmer, scratching a living among the granite boulders and stone fences, coming home to their little salt box and have it chock full of palm trees and coconuts. I sort of vaguely recall other carvings likewise made out of coconuts--more mementos of my parent's magical tropical trips they never ONCE took their children on--but luckily for me my aging brain and/or years of repression have made me forget them. Until now.
Say what you will about the Coconut Monkey God, at least he made some sort of attempt to be decorative, and that was all he aspired to be. I think this thing was meant to be BOTH decorative AND useful, but like many things with hybrid uses instead of doing one thing well it instead fails magnificently on every possible count. It's a coconut carved into three birdlike shapes, so I am assuming they are stylized birds. Their beaks nearly meet at the top, serving also to interfere with the lovely orange hanging string strung through the coconut's eyeholes. And the coconut itself has had three triangular holes cut into it and the interior emptied of any meat or milk or anything else that might have at one time rendered this thing useful.
Mojo's question is simple: What on EARTH are you supposed to do with this thing? A small planter with ivy cascading out of the holes and down the coconut itself? Um, there's no real room for dirt, and if you watered it the coconut would soon rot. Are you supposed to put loose change in it? Because the triangular holes are really too small to get stuff in and out of this thing with any sort of convenience or efficiency.You would have to take the whole thing down off the wall and shake it. Mojo already has one of those big giant glass water cooler bottles for that.
Perhaps, like the Coconut Monkey God, this is meant solely as an object d'arte. Well, at least the CMG had a little bit of personality. These stylized pointy-headed birds really don't do anything for me, although the odd red eyes add a certain ominous touch, like perhaps they are really the Spawn of Satan in disguise. The orange polyester string used to hang it likewise adds that certain je nais se quois, which sounds SO much better than "I dunno". Say La Vee. Once again, Mojo's engineer-father-upbringing-and-current-engineer-husband-influenced quest to make some sort of logical sense of her world is led hopelessly astray by something so utterly pointless it defies her limited imagination. It DOES come with a Certificate of Craptacularity. Perhaps it is meant to hold it. But to do so I suspect you would have to rip up your certificate into confetti-like pieces and stuff them in the little triangular holes. Hey, if you buy it, it's yours--so do what you want with it. Just tell me what you DO do with it, okay? Because I would really like to know about this one.
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