The Zoo
By Between visits to Beefaroo, the family and I managed to spend a few days in Chicago during our recent venture to the midwest. Just before heading off to O’Hare for our return flight, we dropped by the Lincoln Park Zoo; the toddler/cat strangler literally crapped her pants with glee, but that’s only because she’s too young to be rendered breathless with despair at the sight of polar bears lapping away in at bricks of salt and lard, or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to feed polar bears in 90-degree heat. The enormous plexiglass box of Madagascar hissing roaches seemed content, I suppose.
About the best I can say about the place is that it’s not the most depressing of the old 19th century urban zoos I’ve seen. (This one is.) I suppose the beasts at Lincoln Park were unusually demotivated last week, since the vets had just euthanized Yiet Yang, an elderly snow leopard who — bear with me on this one — hated people for some reason. But it seems to me that the meerkats have adopted the proper strategy:
