Gorilla Trapping.
 

Well, here's the problem as I see it. Bananas might work, but gorillas in the wild aren't used to finding them just laying on the ground. Gorillas are likely genetically inclined to climbing trees for those and distrustful of earth-bound bananas. Alternatively, using a sexually attractive female gorilla for bait is a possibility. Unfortunately, selecting an attractive female gorilla is difficult at best, I mean, how can you tell what a gorilla looks for in a girl? Flat nose? Sloping forehead?

Then, there's the problem of the trapping device itself. Do you use a big net and sling up the gorilla with snare ropes when he comes by? Or, do you use a bamboo box trap hung from the trees and drop it on the bugger? How fast are gorillas anyway? Anybody know? The one thing you don't want is an almost trapped, pissed off gorilla looking for the big joker that tried to catch him in a box.

I know that you, the Planeteers, are men of science and are well versed in the ways of metalurgy, explosives, and sexual tension. So, I figured that, if a guy wants to know how to trap a gorilla, this would be the best place to start. To that end, please advise as to the methods you would employ and thanks.

FAX

Disclaimers: Sorry if repost.

Wal-Mart sells a product called Gorilla glue. Smear some of this on his feet while he's sleeping and then smack him in the face and run like hell. (I hope this is a quick drying glue). Also might be a disaster if you accidentally got some on yourself. I'd sure hate to be glued to a pissed-off gorilla.

Seems to me the answer could be as simple as luring said gorilla onto a peice of ground you have saturated with Gorilla Glue.

Dammit.

The female gorilla idea sounds like a lock, but how my good sir, would you obtain the female in the first place?

I'd say your best bet is purchasing one off of the black market.

holy shit this is a bad idea. too many things could go wrong.

Call Northwest Missouri State. They always seem to beat the Pitt State Gorillas.

Maybe Pitt Gorilla could give us a few pointers.

Perhaps you could make a banana sculpture in the shape of a female gorilla as bait? As for what constitutes an attractive gorilla, I suggest asking Ron Jeremy's lover. There may well be some common ground.

As for capturing one, I seem to recall reading somewhere that one of the problems conservationists in Africa were having with preserving the Gorilla population was their tendency to be caught in Antelope traps.

Good luck in your gorilla-capturing efforts.

Edit- After considering "Hummus" Jenkin's post below, you might also try a banana sculpture of Sigourney Weaver.

FAX, I would recommend that you invest in a reliable sprinkler system with an effective mist setting. I've heard that Gorillas are attracted to the mist.

Antifreeze you dumbasses.

First, you need to dig a big ass hole, big enough for a gorilla to fall in to. Then get some leaves to cover it up so as it will be unseeable to the naked gorilla eye. Then put a banana in the center of the hole. When the gorilla tries to get the banana, jump out and scare it. It will faint, gorillas don't like suprises. Then it's yours to beat to death, take a picture with, compare penises, whatever one would do with a passed out gorilla.

I was thinking that, if we could get our hands on some Gorilla pheromones, we could spray paint a lady with those and let her coax the interested gorilla into a giant rubber ball thing with a spring loaded door.

Once inside, we just close the door and roll the gorilla home. But, the pheromone-painted lady would still be inside, so it's hard to recruit for that position.

FAX

Well, you could get a stripper to do it. Plus, they have experiencing attracting gorillas (See Patrick Ewing's involvement in the Gold Club Trial).

Gorillas don't even know what that is.

And, you call me a dumbass.

FAX

Maybe we could get 3 or 4 guys to dress up in Gorilla outfits and start playing the DVD version of CSI-Miami, 2nd edition. And, when the Gorilla sees how much fun they're having, he comes over to join in the game. Then, when he's busy trying to figure out how to get the remote control to contact the forensics team for clues, we cover his head with a pillow case real fast, handcuff his hands behind his back, and just walk him out of the forest nice and slow.

FAX

We'll have to use zipties on a Gorilla. Handcuffs are too small.

The only problem with that theory is I have been told Gorillas have a genetic aversion to David Caruso.

Perhaps CSI-NY?

I'm thinking Damon Huard could do it.

I'm not sure about Damon, but perhaps we could get Jack Bauer from the 24 thread to assist. There can't be that much difference between terrorists and guerillas, can there?

It might just be possible, if we could spot the gorilla from the air, to send a select team of sky divers down on his position and slap lots of double sided sticky tape on him. Then, we wait.

After a few days, the gorilla is so covered with leaves and sticks and mud and gorilla poo that all we have to do is offer him a shower and he'll come with us voluntarily.

FAX

Acme Gorilla Trap -O-Matic. Kit includes:

1 wooden gorilla crate, one size fits all.

1 50 foot rope.

6 plastic bananas

1 life-size Jane Goodall cardboard poster

4 AA batteries

1 rubber gorilla poop

Map of Africa

George of the Jungle audio cassette


Trap -O-Matic is 100% guaranteed. If you're not satisfied with the results within 30 days they'll give you a full refund. The product is endorsed by such notable celebrities as Wile E Coyote, Foghorn Leghorn and Mr Drysdale from the Beverly Hillbillies.

Using the adage, "Monkey see, monkey do."

Situate two identidal cages in the jungle.
Put on a gorilla suit.
Get the target gorilla to ape your actions.
Walk inside one cage and close the door.
The target gorilla will walk inside his cage and shut the door.

Walla!

Walla my butt. You're both trapped in cages in the middle of the jungle. Guess whose friends will be more willing to help. Also could be bad if gorilla decides to enter your cage. :p

But...but....it worked perfectly in my mind when I imagined it! :(

That's wierd, Mr. RJ. Must be a newer version. The old version the Acme Gorilla Trap-O-Matic was a bucket of paint and a brush and you were supposed to paint a big gorilla vagina on a cliff face. Then, when the gorilla ran headlong and konked himself out on the fake gogina, you tied him up.

FAX

You guys do know that RainMan is going to come in here and kick all of your asses, right?

Figuratively, not literally, right?



RIGHT?!?!?!

Well, yeah. I mean, come on. The dude's old, drives a peach Beemer, and he's bald. He even had his bike stolen.

Who's ass is he going to kick? One of the Care Bears, maybe.

Why would he do that, Mr. Simplex3?

Is Mr. Rain Man some kind of gorilla lover? Likes big hairy guys with short bowed legs? Hanging out in the trees picking lice off his buddies? Doing the crazy gorilla dance in the African moonlight? Playing hide the banana? We're talking gorilla trapping here, not some wacky ass, save the species, environmentalist, tree kissing, oh-look-at-the-nice-gorilla-honey-through-your-binoculars kind of sport.

FAX

...because there's nobody around here half as f**king nuts as he is.

Mr. FAX,

Upon reflection, I would advise you to disregard any and all advise or conjecture I rendered on the subject of gorilla catching. I spent the better part of the 1980s, and a small Brinks truck full of quarters, trying to catch one gorilla. Every time I got close, he climbed up another level and threw more barrels at me.

Regretfully,
Zeb

http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i279/88tg88/xm307.jpg
problem solved

I have a problem with this thread. We have no plan on gorilla utilization nor a plan that deals with two if we use the girl gorilla strategy.

Three words about gorilla catching.

Barrel O Monkeys

ROFL

Thread closed.

Well that may be true, Mr. Simplex3. But, I'm pretty sure that Mr. Rain Man's suggestion will have something to do with asking the gorilla about 500 questions about whether he'd like to live on spider island, how to populate the all injury NFL team, or which icecream makes the best brake fluid.

Personally, I don't see how that's going to lead to a gorilla capture.

FAX

Oh great, now I'm gonna have that music running through my head the rest of the night.

I, too, spent far too much time and money chasing that gorilla......^.......^.......^.......dammit!

Also, remember this adage...."The way to a gorilla's heart is through his stomach".

You've been to the mall when those a**hole marketing people are there, right? So basically here's how it works:

1. You approach monkey, clipboard in hand, bored-off-your-ass expression on your face.

2. You ask him if you can have a minute of his time in the most monotone voice you can muster, preferably never looking above his knees.

3. When he mumbles about how he's busy, plead that if he doesn't help your manager will fire you.

4. When you get him in the little room, in the most uncomfortable chair ever designed by a human being, you bore him to death with reeruned questions.

It's by far the simplest plan we have going.

Huh. I usually just go through the rib cage, Mortal Kombat style. :shrug:

"Elmotality"?

Just wait until the day I unleash my army of Tickle-Me Elmo assassins. And here you rubes thought those were just highly annoying children's toys.

Maybe we just send Mr. frazod up the friggin' tree after him if he doesn't come down all peaceful like.

FAX

Then we'd need a thread on how to dress a hostile gorilla as a refrigerator, wouldn't we?

Or am I confusing frazod with another Planeteer?

If we can't get the fugger trapped how the hell do you propose we get it into a refrigerator costume?

Get the annual crop report estimate out of the hands of Mr. Beeks after he gets in the cage.

Damnit! I was seconds late.

You're right, of course. Bad plan.

How about this? We find the biggest, fattest, most obese gorilla in the jungle and show him Mr. Ecto-1's web site. Then, when he goes to the gym, we can grab him while he's on the stair master and unawares.

FAX

Nope. Mr. frazod is a fridge killer par excellence.

FAX

Bad plan, he'll be all hopped up on endorphins.

i saw the same documentary and they used a tranquilizer gun, i believe.

Gorillas are angry, aren't they? Those stories about the ones in captivity named Koko who learn to play the piano and share their ideas about global market commerce through sign language are all false.

I think the idea is to not lure the gorilla, but piss it off so much it becomes confused, and then we casually throw an enormous weighted net over it from atop some trees.

I recommend we convert the gorilla into a Chiefs fan, then wait until the most convenient scheduled Herm Edwards press conference in order to bag it. We can provoke it in the meantime by strategically placing cardboard cutouts of Carl Peterson around the jungle area. Like in the gorilla love-making grounds, or places where a high percentage of gorillas poop. Nothing is more upsetting than looking at Carl Peterson while having gorilla sex or taking a poop.

I couldn't agree with you more. Being a married man with a 3 y/o I wouldn't want Carl interrrupting one of my rare chances at gorilla sex. As to taking a poop....hey, that's my quiet time. Back off, carl, and let a guy read the paper.

F***ing Peterson!

The Iowanian bag of tricks contains a full body gorilla suit, complete with feet and hands. This pic doesn't do it justice.


Last fall, my brothers attempted a "sasquatch" hoax, and did the "bigfoot walk" in front of some trail cams.

This year, it will work better, and Shall be stupendous!

Maybe it would be a good idea to let the corn ripen a little more, Mr. Iowanian.

FAX

I think what our friend fax really wants to know is how to get a post menapausal lady who looks like a gorilla to blow him....

The answer is easy.

Tell her your Twinky has a banana flavored filling.

ROFL

No call for that, Mr. Iowanian. Nevertheless, I'll keep your advice in mind.

Meanwhile, I'm working on a plan to attach a giant quarter to a logchain and block and tackle pulley system in order to hypnotize the gorilla, teach him some show tunes, and just let him dance his way right into captivity.

FAX

Forget the show tunes, the last thing this world needs is another gay gorilla.

So YOU are the one that does those hoaxes. ROFL

Don't encourage him, Mr. Halfcan. Next thing you know, he'll be posting pictures of his Ducksquatch suit.

FAX

Last time I traped a gorilla we used the old small-hole trap...get a large tree..on one of the larger limbs, drill a hole all the way thru just big enough for the ape to get his hand in..place a piece of fruit on the other side, any fruit will work..the gorilla will stick his hand thru the hole grabbing the fruit, thus making a fist, it cannot slide his fist back thru the hole..he is trapped..because he's too greedy to let go of the fruit..dumb-fricking ancestor.....

Theres only one way that works true everytime.


Women...especially blondes.

Damn...thanks...Full Throttle all over my cubicle and all the prairie dogs standing up in their cubicles wondering why the big guy is snorting

I'm pondering this question, but I first have to ask: lowland or mountain gorilla?

And for people who know me, you'll know that I'm going to be pretty mad if the answer is lowland.

I'm hiring Jane Goodall to make gorilla sounds on the sunny face of a mountain jungle early in the morning. When the group of gorillas come in, I'll snatch their asses with snares, tie to them together and walk them down to camp under threat of a box of sparklers.

I'm not afraid to light one and draw shapes in the air in the twighlight of the morning either!

This is whats bad....

"Man is gorilla's only enemy. Because of the actions of male gorillas protecting their groups with such determination from hunters, humans developed a folklore about the ferocity of gorillas. Gorillas' defense of standing and chest-beating make them a perfect target. Like all tightly knit social groups, gorillas will defend their young. They defend them with their lives."


Also...FYI...the daily routine of gorillas....just for those who attempt to trap it:


6am-8am: Wake-up
8am-10am: Eat
10am-2pm: Eat, play, relax, sleep
2pm-5pm: Travel 300-6,000 feet - foraging on the way
5pm-6pm: Build nest
6pm-6am: Sleep

Its very important to note that you need to learn their behaviors...such as the following:


Gorillas learn from their mothers and other adults what to eat, social and sexual behavior and how to rear young. They care for their babies with great affection, patience and playfulness. Energetic, mischevious youngsters are disciplined with stern vocalizations (pig-like grunts), body posturing and strong looks. Gorillas also chuckle, smile and purr. They are gentle and intelligent. Gorillas feel deeply and remember for years. Groups are not territorial and generally avoid each other, but when they do meet, sometimes threats and fighting occur, with the silverback remaining to challenge the attacker while the rest of the group flees. To intimidate his opponent, the silverback stands upright to appear larger, beats on his chest, roars, waves his arms, tears branches and charges. This is all done to frighten off, not harm, other males. Distress behavior includes diarrhea and strong, pungent body odor.

What's the difference, Mr. Rain Man? I was thinking the ones that live near trees. Is that mountain? Maybe the lowdown guys are easier to get, though.

FAX

Well, for those of you who don't pay attention, I discovered last year that I was adopted, and that I actually am a lowland mountain gorilla.

Not particularly good news, here.

FAX

I was thinking mountain. Yep. Mountain. Definately.

FAX

LMAO

Told you guys.

Here's my confession, from a long-lost past thread.

Since we're sharing....


Oh, crap. I hope I don't regret this.



(Deep breath.) Okay, this is the great thing about the Internet. You can be who you are, or you can be who you want to be, or you can be what people think you are. I guess you can also be what people think you want to be, too, regardless of whether that's what you are or want to be.

You all probably have your own mental image of me. Some of those images are probably flattering, and some of them are probably not so flattering, and that’s okay. I figure the typical view is probably that I’m extremely handsome, and that I could lift Rich Scanlon over my head until he cries if I wanted to. You probably think I have some sort of super robot brain, and that maybe I was left here as a sentry for some civilization that doesn’t even have the freaking infrastructure to get a guy a new xilanthium beacon when his old one has been broken for over four years now. Four years!

Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you think. It’s all wrong. And it’s time that I made it right.

Growing up, I always felt like I was different than the other kids. I don’t know if that’s because I was born with a small tail, but nonetheless it seemed to start early. While the other kids were toddling around playing with tea sets and GI Joes, I was out on my hands and knees, looking for bugs and eating them. I’m not saying that was right and I'm not saying that was wrong, but it was what I was interested in. Yet for some reason it was okay to make fun of me just because I was in the woods eating a beetle instead of sitting on the porch and pretending to send GI Joe into the woods to eat a beetle? Whatever. I was living life, and you were playing with a doll. And it doesn’t matter if it’s carrying a helmet and a rifle, it’s still a doll! A white, pasty, hairless human doll.

I could never relate to dolls, even when they were action figures. The little Lego people were very square, and the little Weeble people were very round, and none of them were like me. I could never put my finger on it, but there was something about them that was very foreboding to someone like me.

I stunk at shop in school. I could never figure out which tools were used for what. Everyone else seemed to just know. It was hardwired into them, and for me it was just a total mystery. For me, the only thing that was hardwired was a love of exotic places. I saw an episode of “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” when I was about six, where the grandfather visited and wanted to take Eddie on a trip to the Amazon and the dad, while he didn’t turn into the Hulk, was upset about it and said that Eddie couldn’t go, and I couldn’t understand it. Who wouldn’t want to go to the Amazon, or Africa, or any of a million other exotic places?

I poured myself into geography, and loved looking at maps. I memorized all of the capitals, especially those that were buried in the heart of the jungle in some third-world place that was a hellhole for most people but which was innately irresistible to me. Bangui, Kinshasa, Kampala, Bujumbura. These places rolled off my tongue and I counted the days until I was old enough that I could flee the Ozarks and visit them. No one else knew what I was talking about, or cared. I loved Tarzan movies, and I always saw myself running alongside him or just hanging out in his treehouse.

That reminds me of something else. I was really hairy as a little kid. That didn’t help. We moved a lot, and I'd be trying to fit in in gym class and it’s a new school and I'm the only kid that doesn’t seem to know anybody, and the effeminate kid, Greg, is pointing out that I have more hair than the rest of the class put together. And it’s true. I was a wolf boy, or so I thought at the time.

There was a moment, an exact moment in time, when I realized that I had to know more about who I was. We had two theaters in my town, the Uptown and the Ritz, and they were both those old-time theaters where you had one enormous screen and a balcony and popcorn that they kept in the basement in a big trash can if they didn’t sell it all the night before. It was the late 1970s and someone had made a remake of King Kong, and I think Jessica Lange was in it as Fay Wray, but I could be wrong. So anyway, we’re watching this movie, me and Greg (yeah, that Greg) and Randy and Steve and Duane, and we’re eating our musty popcorn and King Kong is on top of the Empire State Building and he loves Fay Wray, so he’s holding her all carefully and trying to fight off the planes, and then he falls.

One hundred and two floors he falls. He hits the ground and he dies and the people in the audience are either laughing or saying ‘ooh’ or just eating their popcorn, and I start crying. Right there in the theater as a thirteen year-old kid, I start crying. It just wasn’t right what they did to him. He only wanted what we all want, a woman to love him and a job with the circus and a place to relax at night eating shoots and berries. Why could nobody see that? They killed him, and everyone thought it was good thing, just because he was a giant ape.

My friends made fun of me, sitting there crying in the theater, and I ran out, thanking God for the darkness. I got around to an alley and I hated myself, and I remember pounding my body with my fists, pounding, pounding, pounding, and shrieking, and I remember charging at this old homeless man who started to come toward me, and suddenly everything just felt right. I ran home and confronted my mother. I wanted to know who I really was, not some story. She stuck by her tired old claims that my blood is German and English, with a little French, and she covered her ears when I told her that wasn’t right. Things have never been quite the same for us since.

I did a lot of reading and I did a lot of soul-searching. I checked old newspaper records for circus arrivals, and I’ve researched zoo manifests, to no avail. Maybe it’s just a weird twist of the cosmos, a mixing of genes from the primordial soup, back when a little more hair and the ability to eat bamboo shoots with your feet was no different than having red hair or green eyes. Maybe there was a chance encounter that my mother has banished to the dungeons in her mind, an encounter of which I and perhaps a couple of shattered banana daiquiri glasses were the only lasting physical evidence. Who knows? Yet I know what is true.

I don’t know my story, and I don’t know my background, and I probably never will. But after peeling back the layers of society and my identity and this false mannequin that is my self-knowledge, I know now who I am, and after 42 years on this earth I’m going to tell you, and it will be the first time I’ve shared this with anyone.

I am Kevin, a resident of Denver. I am a happily married husband, a diligent homeowner, and a hard-working business owner.

And I am a lowland gorilla.

I’m sharing this because I’m proud of who I am. Will I ever go to the central African jungle and take my ‘rightful place’ with the troop? Probably not, though I can’t say that I haven’t been torn. This place of steel and brick and concrete is my world, even if a part of my heart wants to live among my own. I just hope that, after sharing this, I can continue to be a part of this community and that you won’t hate me and kill me and make an ash tray out of my hand, just because I’m not like you.

Oh. If it's mountain, that's fine. Those guys are dumbasses. I'll put together a plan.

I think you should post your life's tale from above in the break room, RM. :evil:

Dude, be careful or your boss will find out you post here.

This is too easy, just have Clint Eastwood saunter up to said gorilla & have him say "Bes'n you come along quietly, les'n you wind up dead" *spit*

The gorilla will not EVEN think about going for his peacemaker & will in fact come along quietly.

Yeah, no problem Kevin....we accept you as you are.

Pssst, hey guys.....somebody get the mob together. I'll grab the torches.

I don't know about anyone else, but MY new mental image of bRainman is spot on. I rule.

http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g2...o-cavemen2.jpg