Let’s end this brief, scintillating chapter in our lives. A cobra escaped from a zoo. The cobra got a fake Twitter account. We were all rapt, captivated by the cobra’s fake daily life, wondering where the cobra might be. The cobra was found after nearly a week. The cobra was returned to its zoo-habitat. A newspaper and the zoo decided to name the cobra, which someone had done nearly a week ago on Twitter, but whatever. The newspaper and the zoo had a naming contest. There were semi-finals. And now, finally, the cobra has an official name. Write it down!
The cobra does not give a shit, we are sure, but the cobra’s name is Mia, which, as the Daily News pointed out last week “stands for ‘missing in action’ but will be pronounced ‘Me-ah.'” The BronxZoosCobra, who does perhaps give a shit, says this.
And now, we are officially tired of talking about cobras, and cobra names, and cobra Twitter accounts. The cobra has jumped the shark; the shark has eaten the cobra. The End. (Until the person behind the BronxZoosCobra is unveiled. Please be Bieber.)
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on April 7, 2011