My fingers were hammering away at a turgid pace as my keyboard kept trying to dodge any knowledge of my intention to crank out a column that, if not entirely entertaining, struggled not to be forgotten before the ink had dried. Endeavoring not to let the topic slip out of the barn, I began to eschew normal American English and rounded up a troop of macros (shortcuts) that would allow me to insert what might pass as punditry with a keystroke or two. At least my typing speed had a decent chance of increasing while insulating the article from too much monkey business.

My fingers were hammering away at a turgid pace as my keyboard kept trying to dodge any knowledge of my intention to crank out a column that, if not entirely entertaining, struggled not to be forgotten before the ink had dried. Endeavoring not to let the topic slip out of the barn, I began to eschew normal American English and rounded up a troop of macros (shortcuts) that would allow me to insert what might pass as punditry with a keystroke or two. At least my typing speed had a decent chance of increasing while insulating the article from too much monkey business.

It took longer than expected, but within a couple of hours I had formed the construct of a facile system that allowed me to insert paragraphs of insight with only a few wisps of my fingers, allowing me to concentrate on the meat of the matter. I kept at it for a few more hours and finally was satisfied with the results.

I mirthfully chuckled to myself, as I had science behind my effort. The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type a given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare. While there is no way to replace the Bard, the world seems full of people who cannot pass a banana without taking a bite, ensuring a cartload of monkeys at the ready. The true advantage to using thoroughbred monkeys is that they can also type with their toes and they do not sigh when their spelling is off a shade or two.

The only thing lacking was taking notes using the same macros, then scanning them into the word processor where they would appear as finished text. By the end of the next day I had compressed most observations into miraculous macros. To guarantee accuracy I printed out a list of these sure-fire shortcuts, though the cheat-sheet was 225 pages in length. Grabbing my translation book and a legal pad I wheeled to an interview with all the combined skills that I had acquired during the preceding two days. Perhaps I was over-optimistic and too full of myself, but the thought of a trillion monkeys pounding keys seemed to help me over the hump.

What I did not anticipate was the dulling of the eyes and gentle snoring of those being interviewed, all while I paged through my translation book as I strove for perfection. Children cried, grown men wept and the intrepid simply got up and walked as I managed to turn a 15 minute interview into a three hour torture session.

I hastened home to ponder what needed to be done, as the current approach was like a rip-tide pulling me further out to sea. I needed to buoy my spirits without putting a somnambulistic curse on those who chose to be interviewed. Without a conscious thought I picked up a banana, peeled it and took a big bite, igniting an epiphany.

It was finally clear where I had erred and the cure was exceedingly obvious. Over the course of the next few days I pasted this to that as I dove into some deep programming that would automatically translate a digital recording into my myriad of macros that would turn to my style of text with the push of a button. After my next interview I flew through the front door, eager to read the results.

Just then my wife, Annette, arrived home after a long day at the office. She took one look at the pile of banana peels in the kitchen sink, then asked:

"Well, how did it go today in your jungle, ape man?

While looking about for an escape vine I scanned the text and discovered it was backwards and in French. I could only reply:

"I have done the work today of a million monkeys, but need a billion more."

Lance@journalist.com was last seen skipping down the sidewalk with a colander on his head. He is always cooking something up.