Tonight is just a short post pondering the existance of pigeons.
The predominant question is: Why?
Why must they strut around, involuntarily thrusting their tiny heads back and forth with such dumb pride?
Why must they scavenge around under cafe tables, striking at any miniscule morsel of anything even vaguely edible?
Why must they crowd telephone lines and city footpaths?
Why must they so accurately pick targets for their offensive white ammo, and somehow be able to do so without giving it so much as a nanosecond's thought?
Why must they decorate any available statue, windowledge, footpath or park bench with that revoltingness?
Why must they fumble their way through the air, making a whooping racket as they ascend and then landing clumsily with a thump and a fluttery confusion on whatever they hit first (be it the ground, windowledge, statue, park bench, telephone line, wall, window or tall person)?
The answer to all these frequently asked questions is simply this: No-one knows, there probably isn't one. Sorry if this disappoints anyone actually wanting an answer. I suppose maybe I am jealous of pigeons. This sounds completely absurd at first, but let me explain.
Somehow, pigeons are able to do all of the above, without having half a brain-cell to share between the lot of them. They are so oblivious that they may not know they even exist themselves. But is this something to envy? Imagine a life; where food was plentiful, you could crap wherever you wanted, you annoyed people without even thinking about it, and all you had to worry about was where you would fly to next, either to eat or poop? And the best part is, your memory would be so short that you would never get bored of it. Blissful simplicity.
So to conclude: Maybe these pesty birds have it better than we do. Life is befuddling.
Over and Out,
=that gen person=
=that gen person=
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