If you pay attention to Netflix at all (which is almost undoubtedly the case), you may have come across a little show known as Tiger King. For the uninitiated, Tiger King is about a bunch of people who are in the business of keeping tigers/lions/ligers etc. This, of course, is a little weird. Tigers and lions eat people in the wild. In one episode of Tiger King, a tiger demonstrates this fact by tearing a woman’s arm off. The woman continues to work at the “zoo” after this happens. This is also a little weird. Some people like their arms, some don’t. Like an Almond Joy commercial. Except the candy bars are arms. And with tigers.

Anyway, one of the owners of these “zoos” is basically a cult leader. He has a bunch of young, generally buxom, women who work for one hundred dollars a week at his zoo and also sleep with him. He is pretty proud of that and I suppose one can see how. After all, the guy is middle-aged and not overly handsome. Needless to say, his charismatic personality conquers all. Or at least it conquers several women at a time. Perhaps he has Mormon blood. Though, to be fair to the Mormons, they don’t do that sort of thing anymore. Officially. This is because even though god told Joseph Smith it was okay, the federal government told them it wasn’t and that the Mormons wouldn’t get federal dollars if they didn’t cease and desist their polygamous ways. They should have just started training tigers.

If you aren’t already aware, there are more tigers in captivity than live in the wild. If this fact surprises you, you have not watched Tiger King. This probably means you are doing things like reading, an activity strictly prohibited in the United States. Keeping tigers, however, is not prohibited. You can also keep things like alligators and wolves and cobras. Because keeping a cobra is an awesome idea. They love people and are so cute and cuddly. I watched Riki Tiki Tavi. Nag and Nagina were the names of the cobras. Dumb names, Kipling. His sister’s name was probably Rudyarda. Why in the hell would a bunch of pasty-faced Englishmen ever live in the tropics, anyway? Your skin is translucent, for pity’s sake!!

I know. The White Man’s Burden. What can you do?

Personally, I would never get a cobra. I hate snakes. They are very slithery and always surprise me when I least expect them. Luckily, I have never been surprised by a cobra. And I will never go anyplace where that is a possibility. Assuming, of course, that none of my neighbors is harboring cobras. Cobra Harboring Bastards are pretty much everywhere. That’s something I learned watching Tiger King.

Something else I learned is that viruses really aren’t that bad because a lot of people are really stupid and destructive. (Did I mention that all of these places are in the South? Because that seems relevant. Though it’s not like stupidity and destructive behavior end at the Mason-Dixon line.)

One thing that the stupid people in Tiger King love is guns. And sometimes explosives. Bang! Bang! Bang! go the guns. Boom! Boooooom!! Booooooooommmmmm!!! go the explosives.

Heeheeheeee! go the stupid people. It is hilarious to them. Especially when they destroy something with their guns and explosives. Pow! Another watermelon goes to the hereafter.

Heeeeeheeeeeheeee!!!

Not that I care about watermelons. In fact, I don’t really like watermelon. I especially dislike watermelon gum. If you try to give me watermelon gun, I will probably shoot you. I’d certainly sic my tiger on you if I had a tiger. My fictional tiger’s name is Brian Dennehy. Brian Dennehy just died. And he was sometimes fierce like a tiger in his movies. Like when he tries to get tough with Rambo.

Of course, Rambo then gets some guns and explosives and gives Brian Dennehy the old “what for.” Bang! Bang! Bang! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Heeeeheeeheeeee!!

First Blood also has that red-haired guy who later plays a detective in a police show. I can never remember that damn guy’s name. It’s not Brian Dennehy. That I do know. I wonder if that red-headed guy owns any tigers.

David Caruso! I didn’t even have to look that up.

Why in the hell does a red-head have an Italian name? That’s weird. I really don’t like red-headed guys, either. They are like cobras. With red hair.

And freckles.

And sunburn from living in India. Where some of them were eaten by wild tigers.

The essay comes full circle.