It is definitely, most definitely the height of spring in Minneapolis. How do I know, you find yourself asking... um, yourself? It is mighty fortunate you're at the current blog then. A blog filled to the brim with answers to all life's most meaningless questions. Meaning-FULL, rather.
Today I saw... dun dun dunnnn.... the pigeons! It's quite right of you to call me daft for not noticing the plethera of pigeons before today, but you see, I HAVE! One here, one there. The remains of mafia Lou splattered in the street. But there was definitely NO plethera going on. Nada. Zip. Zilcho.
Today, the plethera hath arrived. City pigeons have got to be the laziest fucking animals of all the animals in the history of lazy fucking animals. More lazy than the bunny rabbits hanging out in the teeny patch of grass in front of the brownstones. More lazy than the squirrels jumping in to the garbage cans and eating big macs (on my good honor, I swear I have seen this one on a few occassions). But the pigeons in the city are sooooooo lazy (How Lazy Are They, Margaret?) that instead of 'mating' like normal animals they just waddle. There's no chase. No aero, naut-ically death defying stunts. No passion.
Just. A. Waddle.
And damn, those are some bitchy birds too. They will walk right up to you and shit on your foot if you don't give them what they want. Random thoughts for a Tuesday afternoon. ... .. I'm very happy I'm not a pigeon.
Comments
It's not Bogart. Remember, it's Lou. Lou da pigeon. Please for the love of everything holy tell me that you haven't forgotten about Lou.
Did you know that pidgens mate for life, live over thirty years of age, die of a broken heart if they lose their mate, shit up to two tonnes in their own lifetime and are a direct cause of lung cancer for cats who get their feathers caught in their throats.