“The face of the gelada baboon does not have the doglike shape of other baboons. The nostrils are lateral instead of terminal, as in some of the smaller monkeys. There is no bright color in the face, but on the chest are naked areas of red.”
The gelada, or bleeding-heart monkey, is the only herbivorous baboon, despite their impressive teeth.
More specifically, they’re gramnivorous, meaning that they eat primarily (90%+) grass blades. They’re ground-dwelling creatures, and only live along the cliffs of high-mountain meadows of Ethiopia, whereas almost all other old-world monkeys live in the savanna or forest. Their impressive canines belie their well-developed molars, which can grind grass, tubers, and flowers almost as well as an ungulate (about 90% the efficiency of zebra).
Album of Abyssinian Birds and Mammals. Louis Agassiz Fuertes, 1928.
Yes, a big one. Her mother found very disturbing letters written to her best friend ‘Mona’ in ninth grade. However Cassie had already been slipping since fifth/sixth grade. She hung around with the wrong crowd, ditched school, smoked a lot of pot, became a satanist. It got so bad her parents were actually afraid of her. Thats when they sent her to a Church and she became all religious. They really cared for her. The church was an act of desperation. They literally had no idea what to do. Cassie just seemed so far gone. They couldn’t tell at first if was a real threat or the typical teenage talk like “I’m going to kill my mom she won’t let me go to the mall” but it turned out to be very real. Here are just some examples from her book:
A letter addressed to Cassie from her best friend Mona (not her real
name) opened with several lines of unprintable sex talk and ninth-grade
gossip, and went on to discuss a teacher at the high school, Mrs. R., and
invited Cassie,“Want to help me murder her? She called my parents and
told them about my F.” The letter ended with a reminder about a “neat
spell,” drawings of knives and vampire teeth, mushrooms, and a carica-
ture of Mrs. R. lying in a pool of blood, butcher knives protruding from
Most of the other letters were decorated as well – monkeys with vampire teeth, axes, knives, mushrooms (for mind-altering drugs) – or scribbled with spells and rhymed couplets:
Prick your anger, it is done. The moon has now eclipsed the sun. The angel of dark has spread his wings, The time has come for better things.
In one letter the writer went to great lengths to describe how much she
hated her father; in another, how much she adored Marilyn Manson.
There was endless talk about the “sexiness” of black clothes and makeup,
the “fun” of contraband alcohol, marijuana, and self-mutilation, and the
adventures of a classmate whose girlfriend went to “this satanic church,
cult thing where you have to drink a kitten’s blood to get in.”
Several of the letters advised Cassie to do away with us and thus solve
her innumerable problems. One ended, “Kill your parents! Murder is the
answer to all of your problems. Make those scumbags pay for your suffering. Love you, me.”
Another was illustrated with grisly drawings of a couple (“Ma and
Pa”) strung up by their intestines, daggers hanging from their hearts,
and referred to the “intestine hanging thing,” which the writer thought
was a “pretty good idea.”
“Vampires among us
forever!” followed by a crude poem: “Leave me to swallow my own blood,
Let me drink my life away. Forever the glow of the candle shines
Through the emptiness of my soul. Don’t touch the fire, the old scar says, My blood will boil when the right time comes.
As evil closes on my name, The spark of life will fade away…”
Cassie was as good as any teen at playing straight. She stayed at school
after hours, because “I’ve got to pull up my art grade” (never mind the
pot smoking and the drinking, and that, contrary to what we had been
led to believe, there was no supervision in the room). She showed us her
cool new CD’s, though not the ones she knew we wouldn’t approve of. She
introduced us to Rick, a classmate who seemed harmless enough, but she
did her best to keep us ignorant of his dabbling in satanic rituals and his
problems at home.
Cassie would erupt in fits of anger and
despair, and we never knew quite what she would say or do next. I began to
dread getting up in the morning. Brad remembers:
When Cassie got upset with us – and I mean really upset – she would scream
about how unhappy she was, and how unfair it was for us to have gone
through her room. She would cry and scream and yell, “I’m going to kill myself! Do you want to watch me? I’ll do it, just watch. I’ll kill myself. I’ll put a
knife right here, right through my chest.” I would try to calm her down by
talking with her, or stroke her and hold her tight and tell her how much her
mother and I loved her. There were times when she was acting so irrationally that I felt like slapping her, just to knock her back to her senses. But I never did. Instead I put
my arms around her even tighter, pulled her real close, and said over and over,
“I love you, Cassie, and I don’t want to see you do anything to hurt yourself. I
don’t want to see anything bad happen to you at all.”
Initially, it seemed Dave would be right. In a letter to a friend dated January 4, 1997, Cassie wrote:
“…The letters they found in my room were really graphic, and even had pictures of how we would kill my parents. So now they know about the smoking,
drinking, all that stuff, plus about our not-serious killing stuff. S—, so now I
can’t speak to my best friends, Mona and Judy, and my other friend, Rick. If
I see or speak to Mona, the sheriff will le a restraining order. Yeah, my parents contacted the police! I think they’ve completely blown this whole thing
out of proportion. I’m not addicted to alcohol or cigarettes. I’m not a pothead, but basically I’m really lonely and depressed and hate my parents. Hope
your life doesn’t suck as bad as mine. I tried running away, but they caught me. One good thing though, I’m going to sneak out to the Marilyn Manson
concert. Mona and Rick are going too, so at least I’ll get to see them then.”
coming to the doorway of Cassie’s room and not being able to bring myself to walk in. I can’t quite describe it, but it felt like you could almost cut
the air in that room with a knife, the atmosphere was so oppressive. Finally I went in, and I sat down on Cassie’s bed and began to cry. (I’m thinking that’s some sort of witchcraft).
everything is a ship. you like those two? great! Its a ship! You hate those two? Great! its a ship! they have a good ship name? Great! Its a ship! they’ve never met each other? great! its a ship! they’re both dead? great! its a ship! that character likes food? great! its a ship! they’re not even in the show yet? great! its a ship!
Phantom’s ectoblast missed her by an inch, whipping by before she could react, and he didn’t even have the grace to continue looking at her, already moving onto his next target.
It was bullshit. She thought this truce would at least last until the end of the battle. He’d never broken his promises before and she knew he had better aim than that. So what was that? A warning shot? Did he honestly think she was going to forget that he could rip her limbs from her body without breaking a sweat? Why was he–
“Val, behind you!”
She spun in time to catch the ghost about to bite into her ankle, sending it tumbling down to join the ghost falling ten feet below it. The ghost she hadn’t shot. And if she hadn’t shot it, that meant…
Here have my “Year Of The Monkey”-sona, a golden lion tamarin, because you see… I am a Leo AND was born in the year of the monkey. So I am a powerful lion monkey who is soft and beautiful but bites her friends