Something about Tigers or Something

*NOTE* This was originally posted to my Myspace blog on July 8, 2005.  It is a bit older than that, though.  It was initially meant for a website I was working on but never got off the ground.  God bless laziness.

Really!? Is that the same tiger that tried to eat Roy Horn?  Wow.  Busy year.

While researching this piece, I came across some information concerning the white tiger.  Information that, if put through the proper channels prior to Roy’s near fatal encounter with his own tiger, might have saved Las Vegas’ now nearly non-existent gay, hugely budgeted, overly flamboyant, magic scene.  On a website listing facts about the white tiger I saw this:

Diet: Deer, antelope, oxen, wild pigs and homosexual German magic-men.

Dammit! If only somebody would have given Siegfried & Roy this information years ago we could have avoided this needless tragedy. And in turn, prevented the many tears of a saddened nation. Tears now warping the solid wood floor or a once proud country.

Uhhh… well, maybe not.  The guy works with fucking tigers! Several of them!  Everybody has to know this was bound to happen sooner or later.  We should actually all be amazed this is the first time it’s ever happened.  Well, the first time we’ve heard about it at least.  You see, I’ve got relatives in Las Vegas so I’ve got sources near the scene of the, uh… attempted feeding.  If the rumors are true (and seriously, when have rumors not been true?) then the original Siegfried & Roy are long since dead, digested, turned into tiger shit and are now helping grass grow somewhere.  The rumors continue to say we are now, unofficially, on Siegfried #7 and Roy #12.  “Experts” believe there’s been more Roys over the years because they get stuck doing the terribly dangerous tricks like the infamous “5 Minute Tiger T-Bag.”  That one’s always a showstopper. It’s difficult to feel too sorry for them, though.  When you’re a wild, carnivorous animal based entertainer, lethally savage and brutal tiger attacks are kind of par for the course. These are undomesticated, 700 lb., blood thirsty, razor clawed, meat eating beasts, after all.  It wouldn’t be much of a problem if humans were made out of plants or rocks or something, but if 7th grade science class taught me anything (and I assure you, it didn’t teach me much), that’s not the case.  Essentially, we’re all made out of the same stuff tigers need to consume to survive.  That presents at least slight problem for anybody who wishes to work with them.  Remember those old “Looney Toons” cartoons that had a couple of dudes stranded on a desert island starving to death? They were so hungry they’d each look at the other guy and see like a hot dog or a cooked turkey or something.  Then they’d spend 5 hilarious minutes running around the island trying to eat each other (damn, I wish today’s cartoons had the same blatant cannibalistic overtones as the “children’s” cartoons of yesteryear. You don’t see this kind of shit on Rugrats).  Well, that’s pretty much what tigers see when they look at us. All the fucking time!  To them, we are food! No amount of club and whip based “training” is going to beat that fact completely out of their heads.  In all the years Siegfried & Roy (all 19 or so of them) have been doing their act there’s no way they could’ve been attack free.  The only reason this latest one got so much attention is because it’s the only one to take place in public. The others either happened during closed rehearsals or while they were lounging around the “S & R Gay Magic Paradise” mansion. Roy #12 is more than likely dead and in magician heaven (and I don’t mean a Turkish bathhouse or a men’s rest stop) and Roy #13 is on stand by ready to take his place.  Problem is, since so many people saw so much blood, they can’t go and roll out a new, surprisingly mint condition Roy this soon after the incident.  Eyebrows would raise, wild conspiracy theories would form. The secret would be compromised.

I know what you’re thinking:  “Well, Smartass. Where in the fuck do all these new Siegfried & Roys come from?  And could you possibly be any fucking dumber?”  All I gotta say is keep reading.  I should be able to answer both of your questions pretty thoroughly.  This Siegfried & Roy business brings in Camryn Manheim sized piles of money daily.  Trust me, they’ve got the resources needed to harvest Siegfried & Roy doppelgangers if the need should arise.  Actually finding them, however, does present a bit of a problem.  First off, they’ll need to find someone with very few to absolutely no friends. Someone whose family has, for whatever reason, long since disowned, given up on and forgotten about.  They should be able to find at least a handful of people like this in any comic book store anywhere on the planet.  The comic shops would also come in handy should they need to find any adult, male virgins. Not sure why they’d need one, that kind of thing’s usually left for female vampires and Liza Minnelli, but they’d be there just in case.  Another candidate to fill the highly overpriced, ruby encrusted shoes of Siegfried & Roy could be found among the ranks of the nations homeless.  Sure they all smell like ass and garbage, but It probably wouldn’t take too much money and sweet talking to convince them to do it.  If you’ve ever seen any “Bumfights” videos you’ll understand what I mean.  From a business stand point, hiring the homeless to replace Siegfried or Roy just makes good sense.  Plus, the Siegfried & Roy, Inc. overlords can spend that extra money on even bigger piles of coke and hookers.  And, if all else fails, I guess they can just run an ad in the classified section of the newspaper.  Las Vegas is a pretty odd place and I have a feeling running an ad like the one you see below won’t really raise too much suspicion.

But that might be because the ad above it was looking for someone who has “forever dreamed of participating in the adult film industry and doesn’t mind working with gas powered anal sex toys, amputees and mayonnaise covered midgets.”  Even in Vegas an ad like that is going to get most of the attention.  Unless, of course, you were reading the paper in hopes of finding someone looking for a closeted, magic powered, animal loving German. But how often does that happen.

You might think whole fuckin’ thing is already needlessly long and incredibly asinine.  Well, I’m not done yet.  And fuck you for judging me…. asshole.  Being Siegfried & Roy is a dangerous and highly complex job.  If one of them dies away from public view there has to be a new, trained Siegfried or Roy ready to take his place within a day.  Since these back up Siegfrieds & Roys are going to have to train with dangerous, blood hungry animals themselves they also run the risk of being mauled or eaten they’re going to need understudies themselves.  At any one moment there are several (perhaps even dozens) of highly trained Siegfrieds & Roys just waiting for their chance to get “called up to the bigs” so to speak.  But, where in the Blue Hell do all these Siegfrieds & Roys live?  They can’t all live at the mansion could they?  Although it is a gigantic mansion, having several Siegfrieds & Roys running around playing grab ass all day might be a little risky.  If the mainstream media somehow catches wind of this the shit is going to hit the fuckin’ fan. And that’s huge amounts of elephant, whale and dinosaur shit launched by cannon into some sort of humongous superfan.  That’s why there can only be one Siegfried and one Roy at the mansion at a time.  And what about the rest of them you ask? Simple, Area 51.  Come on people, it all makes sense now doesn’t it?  Area 51 isn’t some place where the government experiments on the aliens and their technology from the Roswell crash.  That’s just fuckin’ stupid.  Area 51 is the training ground and living quarters for all the next Siegfrieds & Roys! Think about it.  All the pieces are coming together!  IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!!!

Wow.  I don’t know what’s more incredible, the fact that this actually kind of makes sense or the fact that I rambled all this shit off based on a 3 word sentence about Tiger Woods’ engagement.  God, I need to get out more.