Clay Pigeons?

Them Bitches is Crazy

Pigeons annoy the crap out of me. You'll just be sitting on a park bench, trying to enjoy a nice turkey sandwich and before you know it you're swarmed by them. They look at you, side-eyed, and mock you. They scream Hoorlooorloorl - which is the sound a pigeon makes. And with each step they bob their heads. Which leads me to believe that pigeons are byproducts of South American drug shacks from long ago.
It was a nice nesting place, the pigeons thought. The warm, tropical climate made it comfortable and the lush scenery made them the envy of all their pigeon friends. One day a group of them went out for a joy flight, just soaring over the landscape, drinking in the beauty when, hark! They spotted a party. The barbecue was roaring, there were lots of people, lots of guns and everybody was nude. And pigeons looove to party, so they swooped in. They noticed how hyper everybody was. The adults were talking and dancing, still nude, and were very fidgety people. The children ran into the jungle and wrestled gorillas. And they ran back smiling, toting severed gorilla heads.



But the pigeons were a chill group. They just kicked it off to the side, sippin' on some tequila. One of the pigeons noticed a large mound of white powder all the human-peoples kept going to. So the pigeons slyly made their way over the the white mountain. Hoorlooorloorl, they said, giving head nods to the gunned lunatics. The gunned lunatics replied, "Hoorlooorloorl." People were smelling the powder. "I bet it's scented!" one of the pigeons exclaimed. Human-people were stirring it into their drinks and rubbing it all over their bodies. This party was legit.
Pigeons were at the time notorious for knowing how to get down, so they imbibed. "I don't smell anything," one said. "Well, maybe we need to smell a lot of it," another followed. Within minutes the pigeons were themselves nude, acting a fool. Hoorlooorloorl! Hoorlooorloorl! Hoorlooorloorl! Then the pigeons just started humping like crazy. "It's not mating season," one of the females said, "but this feels so right." And they had lots of crazy pigeon sex.
By the party's end, they decided this was too much fun to forget about. But they noticed the mound was quickly dwindling. So each of them swooped up a beak full of the happy powder and flew back to their pigeon village. They shared it with the locals. Hoorlooorloorl! Hoorlooorloorl! Hoorlooorloorl! all the pigeons screamed.
Pretty soon all the pigeons started doing their best friend's pigeon and lying to each other. There were lots of pigeon orgies and lots of diseases that ensued, and also lots of incest. Before long, there were too many pigeons and not enough magic powder. So they started going insane. But they still reproduced in great numbers.
So that brings us to today. Now, human-people can't enjoy a day at the park, alone, because of the conniving, codependency of these orphan birds. What was once a grand animal is now a twitchy, head-bobbing creature, desperate for attention and their next fix. Don't be fooled, them bitches is crazy.

Dear Sally Please Understand

"Sally"
I know I’m an asshole for emailing but I want to be honest. You asked where your CD’s went, and I told you I didn’t know. But I do know. I destroyed them. At least all the Bread and Dan Fogelberg CDs, same with the Air Supply and Wham. It’s been almost 2 months and I swear i couldn’t take it anymore.
I tried to overlook the truth, that you have the worst taste in music of anyone I’ve ever met. I know I told you I liked alright those CDs, but then I told you I really didn’t, I actually couldn’t stand them and I wished you wouldn’t play them when I was around. But you continued to play them and not just on your iPod but on the stereo, in the car, etc.

I’m sorry. You were out and I was having a shitty day and I saw them all sitting there on the shelf, and I just grabbed them and smashed them to smithereens. I used that big hammer from the garage and smashed the shit out of them, and I enjoyed it. Because honestly "Sally" they are total garbage. The music you listen to is total garbage.

I probably shouldn’t have done this or at least discussed it with you one more time. But the truth is these bands are among the worst in the history of music on earth and when you hum along with them and struggle to sing the lyrics, as if the lyrics are worth struggling after and not even stupider than the music, I just want to throw up. And I wonder how can such an otherwise great, smart and totally nice woman be so fucking stupid when it comes to music.
I hope you understand. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I can replace them but really if I do I’ll probably just smash them again. I’ll be back later and, if you want, I can come over and bring you the replacements and then leave because if you plan to listen to this shit again I’m just not going to be able to be there.


J: Are you joking? Where are you, I’ve left messages. Youre not joking are you. I don’t believe this, I don’t believe you. I’ve been looking for days. No, you don’t have to come over. And I’m throwing away anything I borrowed of yours after stomping all over it with my boots, just so you know. So no don’t come over. Ever. I do have good musical taste. You’re just a spoiled immature idiot.