Cold Turkey

Maybe I’m just anthropomorphizing, but I think that turkey is in a panic.

Just in the time it took me to walk to my car, I’ve seen the bird dart across the parking lot a few times. He’s pecking at the grass in front of the apartment, which is farther than I’d ever seen him venture before. The he darts back to the now razor-thing treeline and waits there as if any hiding there is possible.

I do not give this bird a week to live, and I feel bad about it, and there is nothing I can do.

I noticed the turkey maybe a month ago. He had a buddy as well, but this guy was clearly the grand-daddy, large enough that he made this human a little nervous. Turkeys are goofy-looking, but I would not put it past a full-grown one to be able to peck a person to at least some sort of treatable injury. I know this first-hand from the summer my family tried to raise a flock of them. They like to climb, and they like to peck.

One of the nicest amenities of my apartment has been this lush wooded area that has been my view. Well, about a month or so ago, capitalism began the process of taking that away from me. I’d hear them as early as 7 a.m. ripping trees out over there. Last week, I got back from a week out of town, and sure enough, they’d finished that stage of the project. Now only a faint treeline exists between my property and several acres of newly uncovered dirt where there used to be trees.

I’ve seen deer, I’ve heard foxes, and I’ve seen these turkeys, not to mention other wildlife. This was quite an active scene. I can’t imagine how many birds alone had their entire ways of life disrupted because Sam Mustache needed to build a new industrial park. And this turkey. This poor panicked turkey. Were that I could take him in for a while. Have him crash on my futon until he gets back on his feet.


“In a truly good economy, helping the ducks cross the road safely would be a well-paying job.” (A.B. Pryor)
So this guy is my new favorite YouTube car guy.

Isn’t he wacky?



You Will Have Swamp-Ass

So today is going to be a Swamp-Ass Labor Day. Glad I am sitting in a nice air-conditioned room with a desk and a computer.

Since I’ve been working 10-hour days, it’s been nice but difficult. Three-day weekends are nice. But by the end of day three, you feel like a lump. So last night I said FERGET IT. I did not make a breakfast shake. I did not pack additional breakfast nums. I took some screen time. I listened to the Lovesexy album. I ate an Aaron Burrito from the freezer.

Then I woke up this morning and realized the cafe here would not be open today. Oh, well. Nothing like a quick rip through the McDucky’s drive-through. Had to run a stupid red light not to be late.

Oh, well.

Hey. Here’s a nicely written piece of media criticism. Seriously, you should read it:

We are all Kim Wexler: “Better Call Saul” and the painful realities of mid-career crisis

YouTube Poops Dujour

Even Witches Have to Have Pockets

Just in time for Halloween: Mr. Rogers interviews the Wicked Witch of the West.


Why I don’t own a printer, and B) why even those who do own a printer need a backup plan, including a reliable thumb drive containing no executable files and familiarity with a local office store.

Why I Believe Printers Were Sent From Hell to Make Us Miserable (The Oatmeal)