Baby Bird
When I first found this baby bird, it was lying on the ground with a broken wing. Now, after four weeks of care and shelter and hand feeding, it’s ready to fly away on its own. And I can’t believe how ungrateful it is!
Seriously, not one thank you. Never a single word of gratitude or any small acknowledgment of all the hard work I put in. Without me, that stupid little shit would still be fluttering around at the base of that tree. No, worse; it’d be in the belly of some tabby.
All the time and energy to help this songbird heal—it all went unappreciated. I made a newspaper nest; I crafted a splint out of index cards and bendy straws; I even mashed up worms from my flowerbox. You know what I got back? Nothing. All I got was a view of some tail feathers flying away.
Goddamnit, you put yourself out there. You care for someone. It never comes back. I beginning to think this whole idea of reciprocity just doesn’t exist. I mean, it’s not like I was looking for a hand-written notes or a muffin basket. It’s a bird.
But, just a nod. Maybe a tip of its bird head. Something to show that it understood how much work I did. Nope. Nothing.
Wait, what’s this? He’s flying back to me! My little bird is coming back to say thank you! Come back to me, Bird! Come back. I forgive you.
Oh, never mind, it’s just a crow. You fooled me again, Songbird. You fooled me again. Jerk.
My Supporters
I've always been lucky to have had warm, supportive people around me. People who encouraged my self-confidence. Growing up, I remember my parents complimenting me on my suave mannerisms. "Smooth move, Exlax," they'd say. Exlax was my nickname, because I was "extremely relaxing," I guess.
Or, if I didn't know something or misunderstood a fact, they'd call me Einstein. It was to show me that even Einstein didn't know everything. Life is about striving to learn more each day. As in, "Learn to tie you shoes, Einstein."
When I got glasses, my family made me feel good about what could have been embarrassing. They pointed out that I now essentially had "four eyes." Like some kind of super hero. My folks had a lot of nicknames for me over the years.
In school, too, I had a lot of positive reinforcement. Even though I wasn't the best at sports, my gym coach would call out, "Way to whiff it, Ross!" Or, "Nice fumble!" He must have seen my potential. That's why he'd put me in the far back of the field, so that I could catch the most important catches.
Today, I still have supportive people around me. My wife is always saying, "I'm soooo glad you decided to buy this broken ass coffee pot. It makes my life sooo much easier." I was concerned it had actually made her life harder, but her kind words set me straight.
Also, when I'm worried about how I look, she'll calm me with something like, "Wow, that shirt doesn't me you look like a retarded fat ass at all." She's so sweet.
I guess I'm saying that we should all remember to share kind words with each other. Words like “doy” and “ka-duhhh!” It shows we care.
.
[Author's note: Even though this is clearly a joke, I have the overriding need to point out that my parents were/are the warmest, most loving people in the world. And, my wife is nothing but supportive and lovely and wonderful. There, I said it.]
This Bank Robbery
Guys, this is going to be the best bank robbery ever! Are you psyched? I’m psyched!
Eddie, Turk, One-Eyed-Pete, Jerry—c’mon you guys, this is exciting! Don’t look so serious. I didn’t get into robbing banks to hang around a bunch of Gloomy Gusses. This is supposed to be about getting out, having fun, and holding people at gunpoint.
Seriously, you all need to lighten up. Where’s the joy we had casing this place? Remember how much fun it was bribing a city clerk for these blueprints? Or, when we stayed up all night trying on masks? I want to recapture that feeling for today’s robbery.
We’ve got walkie-talkies for cripe’s sake! You can’t be a grump with a walkie-talkie. And AK-47s! Hey, look at me, I’m Die Hard. Oh my god! I just realized; we’re totally the bad guys from Die Hard. How awesome is that?!
Turk, look at your face. You look like you’re in line at the DMV. Where’s the Turk from last week—the guy who seduced a teller to find out where they keep the dye packs? That Turk knew how to party.
I mean it; this bank heist is going to be a blast. Get it? A blast? Because of the C4. Aha, there’s a smile! There’s a smile out of Jerry. Check out Jerry, everybody. He’s getting into it.
Now, before we leave this hideout, I want some enthusiasm. I want some excitement. And, I want a big group high five. And remember, if the bank guard even blinks, shoot him in the fucking head.
Low Key – July 25, 2009
[Author's Note: Friday marked 150 straight days of comedy posts on this blog, and I decided to celebrate by taking yesterday off. Technically, it wasn't a conscious decision, but I ended up loving it. So, I'm taking Saturdays off from now on. I promise to make the remaining six days' posts slightly funnier to make up for the missing day. One-seventh funnier each.)
Colorblind
Some people are inherently racist. They look at someone, and all they see is the color of that person’s skin. Not me. I never even notice skin color. I guess you could say I’m colorblind. You could be red, or you could be green; I wouldn’t know the difference. That’s how colorblind I am.
Listen, we’re all just people. Red people, green people—they all look alike to me. Just like red and green lights at the intersection look alike. It’s about the content of a man’s character, not the reddish or greenish hue of his flesh.
I don’t care if you’re Red and like tuna sandwiches or Green and enjoy chicken noodle soup. We’re all the same color on the inside. (Which is either red or green. I’m not sure which.) We’re all one family of man, stretching from the Red Sea to Greenland. Let’s learn to live together.
I had a roommate in college, who I thought was Green, though I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t want to make any assumptions, because race is such a tricky subject. Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t, because I heard him refer to himself as a redhead. At first I was shocked by his use of a racial epithet, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Can you imagine if I had tried to engage him about Green culture, and he turned out to be Red? This non-racist colorblindness of mine can be an awkward thing sometimes.
But still, I’m glad I don’t see color. That way, I can approach everyone fresh, without bias or assumptions. Heck, I don’t even know which race I am, myself. I’m pretty sure it’s Red though, because I’m such a good dancer.
This Pigeon
Oh geez! Why didn’t somebody tell me I had a live pigeon tangled in my hair? Gross! How long has it been in there? All lunch? Are you guys serious?!
I can’t believe you let me sit here with a pigeon stuck in my hair this whole time. I’ve been totally wondering what that flapping and clawing sensation was. I just assumed I was under the AC vent. Has a pigeon seriously been in my hair this entire meal?
When did you first see it? Was it there when I got to the restaurant? Shit, it was? Ugh, that’s so embarrassing. I’ve probably had this thing trapped in my hair since I walked through a flock of them earlier.
Oh my god! I just realized—my job interview this morning! No wonder that guy was looking at me so weird. I thought I’d messed something up on my resumé. No, it was that he was watching an adult pigeon struggling to free itself from my scalp. That must be why he told me “good luck out there.” He meant with the pigeon.
Dammit, and I was flirting with that girl on the bus. Like she’d even be interested in a guy with a garbage-eating bird stuck in his hair. Not likely. I bet the phone number she gave me isn’t even real.
Can someone please help me get this pigeon out? Which side is it on? I wish this place had a mirror.
There, did I get it? No? Shit, you’ve gotta be kidding me. How ‘bout now? Still there? Dammit.
What gets live pigeon out of your hair? Peanut butter, maybe? No, that’s for gum. Never mind, I’ll just go home and shower. Maybe that’ll loosen things up, and it’ll fly away on its own.
Thanks a lot. You guys have been a real big help. I’m being sarcastic, in case you didn’t notice. See if I tell you next time you have a pigeon or an owl or something tangled up in your hair.