By the Pricking of My Opposable Thumbs...

This upcoming week at school, my senior English students and I will be studying and discussing the Anglo-Saxon era of Great Britain (which is before it became Great Britain; previously, it was known as Not-Quite-Great-Yet-But-Still-Pretty-Good Britain), and in our lesson, we'll cover the changing mores and beliefs of English society, from the Celtic polytheism to the Roman invasion and subsequent establishment of Chrisitan monotheism, and how some of those Celtic (and Anglo-Saxon) paganistic beliefs and rites still survived (and some even became embedded and intertwined with Catholic rituals) despite the onset of civilization, which--over time--strips away any remaining bits of culture proven (or deemed) too impractical (or that runs counter to the beliefs of the invaders), so that society can run more efficiently (why have multiple gods when one will do), civilization can progress, and the ruling patriarchal party can continue to rule.

Eventually, science and technology start to benefit mankind, enabling its great thinkers to better explain the world in which we live in and--eventually (said Galileo)--whisk away the cobwebs of superstition, issuing forth a reality that can be observed, identified, and explained by functional methods predicated on pragmatism and empirical evidence rather than on supposition or foolish fancy, all hopefully leading to an advanced civilization that lives longer and fights less, more live and let live than live and let die.

Old notions die hard, though (just ask Bruce Willis). Last week, my wife alerted me to an article about the South Asian country of Bhutan (listed by the United Nations as one of the least developed nations in the world) and its elders' reluctance to let go of their old (some would say archaic) beliefs, even in the face of the impending advancement of their civilization. In that ancient Himalayan country, the Yeti is becoming increasingly rare. The younger generation have relegated him to the backwoods of folklore; to them, he's just a tall tale, a story to scare young children away from the woods.

Now that Bhutan is finally allowing industrialization and tourism to flourish (just a little bit, though), many of those woods are no longer there; therefore, there's very little forest for the kids to be afraid of. What will happen when the woods are pushed further and further away from the towns? What will happen to the Yeti? Will he disappear with the woods? Will civilization and industrialization and science triumph? Will the Abominable Snowman slink off to the North Pole with the other misfits,

never to be heard from again?

Unlikely. Just two weeks ago, three Georgian gentlemen discovered the body of Bigfoot. We as a nation anxiously await the autopsy. Once and for all, this scientific examination will prove the skeptics wrong. Or it won't. Once and for all, this scientific examination will prove these simplistic, uneducated hicks and hillbillies and rednecks wrong. Or it won't. People will believe (or disbelieve) what they want to believe.

No matter what secrets are or are not unearthed by the scalpel, belief in Bigfoot will continue, moreso now than it has in forty-one years, since the still-controversial (because as of yet not completely disproven) Roger Patterson footage of Bigfoot in the northern California forests from 1967.

This footage did more to authenticate cryptozoology in the minds of the general public than any legitimate finding (the platypus, the okapi, the giant squid, the fresh water seal, the white Orca, the coelacanth) ever did, and stories and movies (remember The Legend of Boggy Creek and its sequel?) and hoaxes populated the country like never before. Within the past five years alone, Bigfoot has been a star in three separate (and relatively successful) comic books: Proof, the Perhapanauts, and, of course, Bigfoot. Ironically, it's the advent and progression of technology that has made these legendary creatures more prominent now than ever before. It's definitely not as if they're anything new. Sure, some crytids such as the Jersey Devil, the West Virginian Mothman, the Dover Demon, the very recently discovered Montauk Monster, and el chupacabra (more about this critter in a later post) are contemporary developments, but other such beasts such as Raw-Headed Bloody Bones, Lickum, Thang, and the crockogator have been witnessed in America since before Charles Fort ever prompted study into the strange and supernatural. Older still are the Native American legends. The one's I'm familar with are Choctaw: the Bokpoli, the Nalusa Chitto (also known as the Nalusa Falaya), and the half-man/half-horse creature (I forget the Choctaw term for it) number just a few of many. Those are just the Choctaw creatures; the other Native American tribes all have theirs as well.

And I believe they always will. I think that the more and more techonologically advanced society becomes, the more exact the science becomes, the more interconnected (and thus smaller) the world becomes, and the more naked (where we see everything that's out there, where nothing is hidden anymore) civilization becomes, then the more mankind will innately create or propigate or cling to what little there is left of the unknown. We now have evolved (or progressed, take your pick) to where we not only want progress, but we expect it. We know society will move forward, and we push for it. We've developed the need to connect moreso than ever before, so we develop means of connection: the internet, the iPhone, the YouTube, the MySpace. We google, and we wiki, and we try to discover the hence undiscovered, to know the unknowable (to dream the impossible dream...whenever my high-school graduation song, "The Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha, starts sounding in my head, I know I've grown long-winded and pompous, and I must soon stop), and the more we know, the more we want to know. Why? We want mystery. We need it. We push for it. We develop it. We photoshop it. We invent it. All to stop the woods from receding any further than they already have.