VOLUME 4 : THE BIRD
Published on the second Sunday of every month.
DIGITUS IMPUDICUS: The Impudent Finger
Move over love and compassion, defiance and contempt is here, and I can express the totality of it any time with the most simplistic of gestures. All I need is a functional middle finger.
This month, let’s have some fun with our middle fingers, and… birds.
IS THAT MY FINGER UP YOUR BUTT?
Do you know the history of the middle finger? Well, let me take you way back to Ancient Greece. The Greeks really loved themselves some penis. Many a philosopher would ponder the evening away, scouring the furthest reaches of his or her mind for all the places a penis could go. Back then, everyone wore skirts, and so when you felt like it, you could just stick your finger up someone’s butt hole. The first philosopher to do this noticed that when you hold up your middle finger it sort of looked like a penis with the folded fingers on each side as the balls. It didn’t take long for waving around the middle finger to really catch on, everyone was doing it. Of course it was still more fun to actually insert your middle digit where the sun don’t shine, because, obviously.
It got to be such a problem that the Greeks invented pants. After that people pretty much got bored with the middle finger. Until the 60’s. There was this saying back then, ‘give the big bird.’ This was something people did when you annoyed them and they thought you were a loser. Originally you did this by making a hissing sound like a goose, but that got cumbersome because everybody got a dry throat. So they brought back the middle finger and called it ‘the bird.’ And that’s how pants were invented.
BIRD IS THE TURD
All this talk of the bird got me thinking about birds. Birds have the greatest names. Like these guys. These are Boobies. Nobody knows why they are called Boobies.
Then there’s this poor little guy. He’s always sad because he can’t catch flies. He doesn’t even want to eat them; he just wants friends.
Cock of the Rock is quite the bird. In this picture he’s not on a rock, but on a branch, but that’s the thing with this bird, it’s ‘Cock of the <insert thing>’! So this photo is technically Cock of the Branch. There’s a bunch more. Cock of your Leg, Cock of your Dreams, Cock of the Dining Room Table, Cock of your Coffee. Cocks everywhere.
Once in a while you come across an animal and think, “Wow! This animal and I resonate.” I get this guy, and he gets me.
This owl is called a Morepork. They got their name because humans used to feed them all the pigs. These owls loved pigs. They could eat them all day and night, but they always wanted more. Then one day the humans thought, “Why are we giving all our pigs to owls, when we should just eat them ourselves?” The owls got mad about this but nothing much happened. The pigs were still upset about the whole thing. And that’s how we started eating pigs.
PIGEON POOP MAY CONTAIN SMALL FEATHERS
One day while strolling through Rome, I thought I’d check out St. Peter’s Square. As my foot touched sacred ground, I felt a soft wet plop on the top of my head. Looking up, I caught a glimpse of my assailant’s butt. (Actually, it’s more like a penis-butt, or a vag-butt? A vaganus? Peninus?). If you didn’t already know, pigeon poo is pretty gross.
For your information:
Pigeon droppings are typically firm, white-brown in color, and similar in appearance to small marbles.
They may also contain tiny feathers.
Loose, wet droppings can indicate that the bird is stressed or unhealthy.
After having a load dropped on my head like a champ, someone nearby pointed out to me that it’s good luck to have a bird shit on your head. Where did this ridiculous idea come from? The Russians. Why Russians would think that if birds poop on you, you’ll have luck and fortune, nobody knows. What I can tell you is that I’ve had three birds shit on me in my life so far and all I got out of it was shit in my hair. While I cherish the idea of unhealthy birds dropping bombs on the heads of my enemies, I mostly wouldn't wish this upon anyone.
Back to the story. After the poop assault, I went to a nearby cafe, ate pizza, and drank a liter of wine. And that’s the story of how we invented hair gel.
RUINING DRAGAN’S PHOTOS
Why does he keep punishing himself like this? This is one of the mysteries of the universe to which I don’t actually want the answer to. Ok then, let’s ruin another one of Dragan’s photos.
THE ORIGINAL
NEW AND RUINED
You can see more of Dragan’s photography, untainted by my hand, on his official Instagram page.
NO SAD HAIKU THIS TIME, JUST A GESTURE
It’s been nice. Thanks for coming along with me for the ride. It’s time that you go now. Go on, get out. Don’t make me put my finger up your butt.
Please send this month’s newsletter to all two of your friends and all 20 of your enemies. Tell them I am a sad lonely orphan that could use some love but actually money would be better so please don’t be a heartless jerk and become a paid-subscriber. Lamborghinis aren’t free you know. Thank you.