Seagull-iness.

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If for no other reason than relief from the hideous photograph of my previous post I need to post something. Anything.

How about a seagull instead?

Speaking of seagulls, I’ve had this rant churning within for awhile. We, and I mean we as a people, a group, love seagulls. LOVE THEM. We take pictures of them, we paint paintings of them, we write about them, we feed them on the beach like retards with nothing better to do with bread. Some kinda way they seem to scream the free spiritness or beachiness of the beach.

Are you with me here so far?

So then you go to the dump. And swirling about, wafting on thermals, perched on mounds of garbage are, well, seagulls. Lots of ’em. Same bird, but nobody’s setting an easel and painting a picture of them or writing poems about dump-gulls. Sullen and pissed off, they eat trash all day.

Sometimes I feel like they got the shit end of the stick.

Or maybe bad directions.

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One response to “Seagull-iness.

  1. “…we feed them on the beach like retards with nothing better to do with bread.”

    In every one of your posts, there is at least one line that makes me laugh out loud. That is perfect. I am so one of those retards.

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