For the Birds

I am saddened by our society. It disappoints me, as all societies let down those who are part of them and not complete dullards; now, I am not claiming intellect here, just not complete ignorance.

Honestly, though, with all the greed and malice slinking about, how can we really look around with hope, with any knowledge of truth? And each week it all worsens, the whole mess, the outrageous spectacle, and this week we have once more plummeted.

We have started another war we need no part of; one whose stakes are too lofty. And as we pile up or propaganda and endoctrinate the simple-minded with these lies, our enemy is mobilizing. They will come in force. They will come from the sky. They will come in the springtime.

Obviously, most of you know exactly of what I am speaking, and those of you who don't likely belong to the lovely confederacy of dullards I alluded to earlier. You march along unaware, well your time is near, and this will hopefully open your eyes; believe me, if I do not, they will.

This weekend a plane crashed and the United States of America openly blamed the birds. I don't know if it was specifically pigeons, seagulls, or albatross who were cooked by the biased media, but the lack of specifics will likely only serve to further the numbers of the bird coalition that will rise up and then swoop down against us.

The 'bird strike' as it was deemed was no such thing. And I am aware that I am treading some pretty dangerous ground and perhaps will not be a free man much longer for it, but I must make my stand before my wings are clipped.

The group of birds were merely cruising south for a bit of respite from the frigid northeastern climate. The poor fellows and gentlefowls were minding their own business and flying as a peaceable group, as is the norm with the avian kind. They had flapped out of Canada and were on an all nighter to South Carolina. There they were hoping to catch the red eye, along with some bread crumbs, en route to Cancun.

One of the dearest of the flock, a youthful, and naturally somewhat careless, member, swooped graciously away from the congregation: he had to relieve his morning niblets and didn't want to splatter on any of his fellow flyers. He was looking forward to lightening his load but never got to rejoin his mates in a leaner state. Only a few feathers were left as he was picked off by a heinous 85,000 lb bullet shot by an American airline. Not a tear was shed by this lone bird's comrades because it all happened so quickly and at a lower altitude; they didn't know what happened to their now incenerated friend. But they do now; we told them.

And not only did we go public about the massacre, but we disgraced the entire winged community (I wouldn't be surprised if dragons come out of hiding after this debacle). We blame the bird for our misfortune--which took no human life. Then we audaciously make a hero of the man who piloted the plane to safety. And this, perhaps, would be fine--give Captain "Sully" his due--if we would go ahead and honor the life we took. How about a memorial for our young friend, who now looked like he has spent a decade in the deep fryers of Hell. If we had properly honored him and apologized to birds everywhere for our intrusion into their domain and what it has caused, then all would have been fine; they are a congenial enough sort.

They have ignored for years the hunting we do. They have merely shrugged when we laughingly explode their pigeons with rice after our wedding ceremonies. They tolerate Popeye's and the others. But they will not stoop for this.

Have you seen Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds"? He is the next Nostradamus--except his predictions are not blanketed on every even year and every-other odd year and vague enough to be true or maybe next time or maybe he meant tomorrow . . . yeah, tomorrow. No, Mr. Hitchcock was very clear: the birds will attack. They will be merciless. They will peck to kill. They will beak at our forlorn society with terrifying fervor.

But even old Al's predictions were tame compared with what might ensue when the weather warms. The little birds will come first--sparrows and hummingbirds and the like--and they will test us out. They will spy and examine our defenses. And then the crows and vultures and hawks will form not a flying "V", but intricate formations that spell "DIE" and "RESPECT THE BIRD." Do you know how many birds it will take to shadow your parks, your home, your church with "RETRIBUTION HUMANS!" Millions. And, I hear, they are developing a 'stealth' bird for any necessary spaces. The penguins will come by sea and nothing Morgan Freeman can say will halt their malice. Many I have talked to think the eagles will join America. They are fools. The eagles are so tired of being the laughing stock of the avian community: "Your their pets, squawk, squaw," the other birds taunt them. The eagles want retribution. The ostriches will not come. Their heads are in the sand and not the clouds--the Switzerland of the bird community. But the rest will be here.

Ready yourselves. If our government will not act and our media will not try to remedy our peril, then it is every man for himself. Remember the bird flu? This will be like the bird cancer. I am constructing a bird costume for myself and working on my Birdish (it is a complex language but can be mastered with dilligence). Everyone will have different schemes but this is mine: blend in, move south during the winter, and back north in the summer. I will behave like a squawking retired person who is covered in feathers and donning rubber beak. The flying part will be more difficult but if a guy named 'Sully' and a bunch of stupid birds can do it, how hard can it be?