Corky, Corky, Corky!!
It’s perfect.
Corky the flute monkey from Cork.
Don’t you just love it?
OK, what’s your idea.
OK, 56 hits so far and I’m none the wiser for it.
So, I ask you:
WTF?
Thank you.
I must admit to being a little puzzled myself. Come on! Somebody’s got to be able to fill us in!
A.J.
bump
Anyone?
Haven’t a clue but I found this neat story from a google search on “Flute Monkey” And this neat pix http://www.littletooters.com/images/Tooters/latpics/monkey.jpg
http://www.theharrow.com/2002/fiction/bambooflute.html
Enjoy!
Cheers,
Kathy 
Maybe it is related to a Dilbert series from a couple of years ago where someone in Dilbert was tormented by an email monkey? He just could not stay away from his email.
Just a minute, I have to check my email…
Anyway, maybe this person is saying WHOA is like that?
In that case, my flute-monkey’s name is “Jones”. 
Hmmm… actually, monkey is my spirit animal and I play the flute. I am the flute monkey.
By the way, WTFWJD?!?!?
Chris
ALL HAIL THE FLUTE MONKEY! BOW, KNAVES!!! 
OK, so there’s this little monkey that has been showing up at our sessions. He hugs a muso’s keyless flute and keeps it from rolling off the table onto the floor which would be a bad thing.
His partner says he picked him up in the streets of Cork.
He’s a real Irish flute monkey from Cork.
His partner, who’s flute he hugs, says he needs a name. I think Corky is cute but maybe there are better ones out there.
Corky Jones King of the Irish Flute Monkeys maybe.
I think he might be distantly related to the Plectrum Pixies but he has much better manners.
Hi, what’s up? (just back from death’s door)
Aha. THAT flute monkey. A little rubberish gorilla replica that alternately hangs on the muso(whatever THAT is; shortspeak for musician?)'s pint. Gotcha now. Prior details are a good thing, BL. We don’t read minds, lass.
Personally, I favor “The Flute Monkey” itself. It’s a fanfare in three words. dignified in its silliness. Who needs a name when titles will do? 
Sorry Nano have you been unwell?
Hope you make it to the sess. tonight. There might be B-day cake for the Baglord’s B-day.
Oh, but I like sparking peoples’ creativity. It’s fun seeing what fills the void.
hopefully not TOO close to the pint.
It reminds me of a well-known story:
A traveling musician, a pianist, shows up at a bar one day for a week-long gig. He has a pet monkey with him. The evening begins and he plays a beautifully lyrical original jazz piece that moves one of the patrons to tears. “What was that tune called?” she asks. “Earwax,” replies the pianist. He then launches into another gorgeous composition, even more beautiful than the one before. “God, that was lovely,” says another patron, “What do you call that?” “Toejam,” replies the pianist. At this point the monkey jumps off the piano and picks up a little wooden bucket, and goes around to all the patrons to collect tips. He wanders down the bar, and pretty soon the bucket is nearly full of coins and bills. At the end of the bar is a scruffy old drunk guy with a big scowl on his face. When the monkey gets to him and waves the bucket, the drunk gives him a swipe with his arm, sending the monkey and the bucket tumbling to the floor. Indignant, the monkey jumps back up on the bar and sticks his butt right into the guy’s pint.
The drunk glares over at the pianist. “Hey, you know your monkey’s got his ass in my beer?” he yells.
“No,” says the pianist, scratching his head. “I can’t even remember how that one goes, and I wrote it!”
No, Brad, this li’l rubber monkey is indeed a gorilla replicant in form, although I don’t recall if he’s a silverback, yet. Very apish; can stand alone on his foreknuckles, grip a keyless flute and keep it safe from rolling, or brachiate from the brim of a pint, bringing to mind a highly compressed King Kong. Now if only he could swat away the pint flies just as K.K. did those biplanes. Maybe if I toss back enough Sheep Dip I’ll start seeing that. He doesn’t look his best lying on his side, though. Looks like rigor mortis had set in.
Yes, BL, I’d been hors de combat, swaddled in massive wraps and headcloths for three days while a steady fever fried my synapses, too weak and whimpering to even reach five inches over to the pen and pad to scrawl my Last Will and Testament in a fading, spidery hand. I mean, I almost never get under the weather, so you can imagine how unprepared I was (read “wimp”) for that little episode.I was drinking only tea and water, too, can you believe it? I still shake my head at that.
Which reminds me: how’s The Undisputed doing?
(edited to clarify that it’s not MY flute monkey)
On another forum I have been reading about flying plectrums and it seems there is a substance that is used to keep a grip on things musical, picks, sticks, bows, called Gorilla Snot.
Do you think our little friend might be able to give us a bit so we can get a grip?