Saturday, March 20, 2010
I'm sick of its bouncing around, so to get rid of it I make the mistake of tossing a chip away from the table thinking he'll go after it. The chip never even made it to the ground. The little bugger swooped, caught it in his beak, and was off. This is where the trouble began.
WARNING: If you are in a park DO NOT throw any object that is food, food-like or could be misconstrued as food by any animal with a brain smaller than a peanut!
I was immediately swarmed by all manners of fowl. Pigeons are popping up from behind trash cans, robins are flocking from the trees, the ducks and geese from the pond are flying my way. There were woodpeckers, finches, and crows. I think I even saw a fucking Fluffy-Backed Tit- Babbler! It looked like something staged by Hitchcock.
So, within seconds, I am sitting in a sea of feathers all strutting and cooing "Hey, you got any food? Wanna' give us some food? We saw you give that other bird some food. Why don't you give us some food, too? We like food. Hey, is that food? Why don't you give us some? Come on, be cool. Give us some food, man. Don't hold out on us. Give Us The Fucking Food!"
So, I slowly (for fear of being pecked to death or shat upon en masse) wrapped my food, got up, and made my way to my car where I finished my lunch behind rolled-up windows and locked doors.
All of this made me wonder: What about downtown pigeons? They hang out Monday through Friday and get fed by all the office employees on their lunch breaks. But what happens on the weekends? Pigeons don't know it's the weekend. They don't have clocks or calendars, at least not that I know of. If they do, I need to get into that market because there's tons of customers. Of course, pigeons probably don't make a lot of money which is why they live on the street. So, nix that business idea.
Back to the original conceit, though. Do pigeons get into a habit of around 11 A.M. everyday thinking "Food! Food! Free food! The people sitting by the reflecting pool here give us free food!" And sure enough, Monday through Friday, it's an all-you-can-eat buffet. Then Saturday comes along, 11 A.M. rolls around, and all the pigeons are like "WTF?!" It must confuse the hell out of them.
Of course, they're probably pleasantly surprised to no end when Monday comes and the pigeon- feeders return. " Hey, look! It's those guys with the food! They're back!" Maybe this weekend you should go downtown and feed some pigeons. Yes, YOU, the one reading this post. I sure as hell ain't gonna' go feed the little rats with wings.
All this fowl confusion is because man had to cook up "the week." The 7-day week is the only idea of time above an hour that has no physical determination in nature. A day is the amount of time it takes for the Earth to make a complete turn on its axis. Months are determined by the cycles of the moon. And a year is the (approximate) amount of time it takes for our planet to revolve around the sun.
So what would happen if we did away with the week? How would human development change? No more Mondays or Fridays or any other day except for to-day. Would we shift our way of thinking toward months just to keep some semblance of cyclical routine? Would single digit days receive the dread that was once particular to Mondays? Would we coin the phrase T.G.I.the 27th? Would the ides become the new hump day?
What do you think? Can we finally get rid of the week? I'm sure the pigeons would be much happier. Won't someone please think of the pigeons?
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I don't believe in cheating. Cheating is wrong. That having been said, I can only stand by that statement as true if I add a caveat. What is commonly known as cheating is not cheating.
Cheating is using an unfair advantage that is not available to most in order to put yourself ahead of the pack. That is wrong. However, using every opportunity available that is there for anyone who is willing to use it in order to win is not cheating. It is not only perfectly acceptable, but should be encouraged. The reason most people call that action cheating and seek to disallow it is because they're pissed off that they didn't think of it first.
If I sit at a black jack table and have the dealer send me signals as to when I should hit and when I should stay, that is cheating. If I sit at that same black jack table and memorize what cards have been played, use that knowledge to deduce what has yet to be played, and calculate the odds of what card will be played next in order to know when to hit and when to stay (commonly referred to as counting cards), that is playing smart.
And that is what I do, play smart. So, it would be fair to say that I don't believe in cheating. I believe in winning.
Let's look at the situation in this way. Who gets first chair? I'm talking about violinists here. Who gets first chair? I'll tell you who will and who won't.
The kid with the most talent never, ever gets first chair. First chair always goes to the kid who puts in the most diligent practice. Sure, the kid who eventually gets first chair just may be the most talented of all the contenders, but that is not why he got it.
The position goes to the kid who practices until his fingers bleed. And surely for his success he will be hated, especially by the more talented jack-off who expected to breeze into what he felt was his entitlement without earning it.
When you upend people's conventions by being better than they think you're supposed to be or better than they think they can be, be ready for their disdain. And be comforted by your success. Ecclesiastes 9:11-18 backs this up. The race goes not to the swift...
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
I'm full of wonderful knowledge like that, and I should really share it with the youth out there. Y'know, Sherrodzilla loves the kids.
"Son, this bullshit was given to my father's father by his father. Then my grandfather passed this bullshit on to my father. Then my father abandoned me and my mother and started another family in Phoenix, but not before he passed this bullshit on to me. So, now, I pass this bullshit on to you, and someday it will be your duty to pass this bullshit on to your children.
Take good care of this bullshit. It's been in our family for generations. It came over on the Mayflower . . . Of course, that last part could just have been some bullshit."