PALM HARBOR, Fla. (AP) - A Florida animal sanctuary says Cheetah the chimpanzee from the Tarzan movies of the 1930s has died at age 80. The Suncoast Primate Sanctuary in Palm Harbor announced on its website that Cheetah died on Dec. 24 of kidney failure. Sanctuary outreach director Debbie Cobb on Wednesday told The Tampa Tribune ( http://bit.ly/rRuTeJ) that Cheetah was outgoing, loved finger painting and liked to see people laugh. She says he seemed to be tuned into human feelings. Cheetah was the comic relief in the Tarzan series starring American Olympic gold medal swimmer Johnny Weissmuller. Cobb says Cheetah came to the sanctuary from Weissmuller's estate sometime around 1960. Cobb says Cheetah wasn't a troublemaker. Still, sanctuary volunteer Ron Priest says when the chimp didn't like what was going on, he would throw feces.12/30 UPDATE: Apparently some have questioned the "80 year old" claim.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
This blog is beginning to resemble the obits--first, Christopher Hitchens, now Cheetah the Ape. (Who knew apes could live to such a banana-ripe old age?) Cheetah was part of one of America's greatest mythic inventions, Tarzan of the Apes, from Chicago native Edgar Rice Burroughs.
Posted by David Angsten at 9:54 PM
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
--Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Posted by David Angsten at 12:21 PM
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
--John Dickinson (1732-1808), Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania
Posted by David Angsten at 9:16 PM
Monday, December 12, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Posted by David Angsten at 2:23 PM
Friday, December 2, 2011
Restoration (1952) To think that any fool may tear by chance the web of when and where. O window in the dark! To think that every brain is on the brink of nameless bliss no brain can bear, unless there be no great surprise -- as when you learn to levitate and, hardly trying, realise -- alone, in a bright room -- that weight is but your shadow, and you rise. My little daughter wakes in tears: She fancies that her bed is drawn into a dimness which appears to be the deep of all her fears but which, in point of fact, is dawn. I know a poet who can strip a William Tell or Golden Pip in one uninterrupted peel miraculously to reveal revolving on his fingertip, a snowball. So I would unrobe, turn inside out, pry open, probe all matter, everything you see, the skyline and its saddest tree, the whole inexplicable globe, to find the true, the ardent core as doctors of old pictures do when, rubbing out a distant door or sooty curtain, they restore the jewel of a bluish view.
Posted by David Angsten at 9:55 PM