Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Witz Pickz: Dead Pigeons!

Ok, so I realized that last post of fake news articles was kind of like a clip-show and not much of a post at all-- if you ignore all the comedic wizardry that is!! (Back in the day, comedic wizards used to be persecuted and burned at the stake in the same way that regular wizards were at the time. It was only recently that comedic wizardry was found out to be rooted in lingistics and timing while regular wizardry is still known to be The Devil's Work.) Unfortunately most clip shows not only have no comedic wizardry, but are just outright infuriating. If I sit down to watch a television show that i've waited a week to see, I don't want to see small parts of past shows edited together via some thin plot usually tied to a snowed in cabin where reminiscing takes place. That's horseshit-- even if Coach does hookup with the philosophy teacher in the end. NOW-- for this reason, I have decided to make up for my clip-show style post with several new posts in the coming day(s). Clearly I've started by NOT picking clip-shows. "But what about a positive pick for once, Witz? You seem to be very negative lately!" Thanks for your concerns, avid subtextual reader, maybe I have been, but not anymore! And you know why? Because:


Now I need to make it clear from the start that I am not one of those people who hates pigeons. On the contrary, I've always been somewhat neutral and even fond of the alleged "rats with wings." Even that expression annoyed me when I heard it and seemed like pigeons were getting a bad rap. In fact, I would say that I enjoy pigeons in the same way that I enjoy So You Think You Can Dance, or Jennifer Garner-- readily available, easy on the eyes, and good for an hour of low-maintenance enjoyment as long as there's some action involved. All of this was true up until about a month ago.

It's amazing how quickly I go from one side of the fence to the other when it effects me. When i'm driving, I constantly get ripshit at pedestrians. When i'm a pedestrian, I jaywalk, and mutter things like, "go ahead and hit me buddy." Perhaps someday I will become a bicycle-user or a motocyclist, so that I can find some redeaming quality about the two that make me not want to destroy them as they weave through traffic, slowing everyone down even more and blocking my FUCKING RIGHT ON REDS AT THE LIGHT. Or maybe I won't.

Regardless, I was all about pigeons until they suddenly decided to take up roost and resident on the rooftop deck of my new apartment building. You see, the rooftop deck was the kicker that put this apt building over the top (much like the love Stallone had for his child in the film Over the Top that allowed him to win the championship arm-wrestling match). But now that I live in the new building, pigeons have taken over the deck which is covered in feces and feathers, not to mention about, oh, a million pigeons. I confronted the manager and was told that there is a "pigeon relocation program" in place, which appears to involve a cage, and an animated Ben Stiller saying, "Come on, do it" over and over again to lure the pigeon into the cage. When I asked how long the program would take he responded, "Well, that's unclear" which translates into, "until the pigeons take the correct but random series of complex angles and complete the proper random synapses of the mind to somehow end up in a 3x3 cage via ONE DOOR. This has been the process under way for the last month until yesterday when it apparently:

STARTED RAINING DEAD PIGEONS! You know that book, "The Day No Pigs Would Die"? Well this was like, "The Day Assloads of Pigeons Died For No Apparent Reason!" I was walking home from work and found a dead pigeon by the street. As I approached my building, I found two more lying by the curb. When I went into the garage, there was a dead pigeon lying by a car. "What fortune!" I thought, and immediately placed a sizable, yet unaffordable bet on a boxer i'd never heard of. The next day, two more different pigeons were dead in the garage, and one more was dead outside. Now, logic might say that someone started poisoning the pigeons...or possibly that my building is ground zero for the avian bird flu in the united states...but I think God's behind this. Because a few days ago, I was really hungry and said, "God, I wish we could just BBQ on the damn rooftop deck!" Apparently, in addition to sports teams, World Leaders, and Miss Universe Contestants, God listens to BBQ dreamers and speaks words of death to pigeons! Which can only mean one thing-- God sweats the barbeque! And why wouldn't He? BBQ's are fantastic! They raise morale, smell great, and give enjoyment to all those involved-- which I can only assume is exactly like Sabado Gigante on Telemundo. Not like pigeons-- those freaking rats with wings.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The question becomes: is God trying to tell you something =more=? Namely: BBQs rock...and here's some meat. What are the chances? You want a BBQ. God kills those that stand in your way. But what if, just WHAT IF, the pigeons weren't preventing the BBQ - what if they ARE the BBQ. Do you know anyone who's ever tried to BBQ a pigeon? I sure don't. Maybe this is God's way of saying, "Don't call my gray, winged beauties rats with wings! Don't say they're desease-ridden (fuckin' wive's tale, I tell you)...don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em". God is speaking to you, Witz. You are his servant, his missionary. It is up to you to set us on the path to righteousness...with righteous flame-broiled pigeon. I fully expect a Witz Pickz Pigeon Burgers (Bleu Cheese Pigeon Burger? Anyone?) by the end of the weekend.