When I left home this morning, three crows, four pigeons and two ducks were chowing down on birdseed under the big tree in my front yard.
I put out that seed for house sparrows, finches, scrub jays, California quail ... I get crows, pigeons and ducks.
Ducks. I live at least a mile away from any body of water; Sparks Marina park is east and Paradise Park is west. I'm on dry land, in a 1950s-era subdivision.
Ducks. Bright-orange webbed feet. Male with glorious satin-green neck. Matching satin-blue chevron on wings of male and female.
Last spring, two males got in a fight — biting, kicking, quacking, feathers flying — in the street in front of my house, while a female ate my birdseed, ignoring the beakacuffs. Saturday, two males walked down the middle of the street, side by side, like human guys out for a stroll. No female in sight.
The pair this morning barely moved away as I restocked the bird buffet, the male grumbling threats. A crow bigger than a housecat sat on the birdbath and cawed at me.
Please, Mr. Hitchcock ... say "cut."
ooo ooo ooo
Candidates spur humorlessness in the screaming heads of cable TV.
It's got to burn McCain; he delivers funny lines but the cable guys don't get it. Clinton throwing back Crown Royal is the best laugh I've had all month; the cablers rolled out the tsk tsk tsk's.
Realization: Diabolical cable-TV managers remove the sense of humor as part of the hiring process. If the humor grows back, the talker is canned, or quarantined. Surgery or chemical castration? Laughstration, perhaps, or humorectomy?
Come on, people! Nothing is 100 percent serious, 100 percent of the time.
Especially politics.
As Roger Rabbit observed, sometimes a laugh is the only weapon we’ve got.
-30-
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment