[Sept. 2016 Opinions] Here’s to Harambe: the gorilla, the myth, the legend *a satire

By Jason Streiter ’17

It’s been five months,  two days, 12 hours, 3 minutes and 2.5 seconds since Harambe the gorilla was murdered in cold blood at the Cincinnati Zoo. When a three-year-old child passed over three different fences and fell into Harambe’s habitat, Harambe’s idiotic handlers decided that a seventeen year old Lowland Gorilla would go berserk if he were tranquilized. So, they killed him. Morons.

Harambe’s unjust and ill-timed death brought about a wave of protest. That shot was heard around the universe. It was louder than the bullet that killed Abraham Lincoln and JFK.

People created Memes and chants so that he would never be forgotten. Never. Total Frat Move and Barstool Sports broadcasted the message over Instagram and Snapchat, reaching three million plus subscribers in under a day.

That sparked the formation of a movement that garnered more followers than Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump combined (most likely due to the fact that Harambe had a higher intelligence than both of them put together). This movement recognized our hero and took the necessary steps to ensure that his great intelligence, beauty, and sexual appeal, would live on forever.

And the world has embraced him, as is seen when you attend a Staples home football game. That is when my true purpose in life is realized.

While in the middle of the student section in the stands, I pull the gorilla mask over my face to complete my costume. The brown fur of the body-suit hugs me skin-tight, keeping me warm, as if the spirit of my hero were present. My costume is a silent tribute to the fallen saint. Then, all of a sudden, I softly murmur the chant, “Dicks out for Harambe.”

One by one, the crowd picks up on my chant. The volume builds and builds until it reverberates through the crowd. “HARAMBE!  HARAMBE!” All students, from freshmen to seniors, and from nerds to jocks, chant it. The crowd goes crazy, and it is only due to the mercy of our mighty god, Harambe, that the stands do not come crashing down.

I smile from behind my mask: my mission is complete. In the sky, I can see the spirit of the fallen saint, the martyr of the millennials: Harambe, the hero.