our current bird seems to love microwave beeping sounds

I’ve never known a bird that showed any sign of caring whether you said “he” or “she,” but I have certainly known birds that had strong reactions to sounds. The parrot we used to have would made a bizarre, indescribable screeching noise any time he heard the metal clicking sounds made by a nail clipper. I don’t know if it was a sound of anger, panic or joy. Maybe “nail-clipper-click” was his preferred pronoun. We’ll never know.

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the best are the days when literary and physical diarrhea co-occur, so you have a good excuse to keep running to the bathroom to type

In German literature class in college, my professor showed us a poem from I-don’t-know-how-long-ago, which contained the lines “Nachtstuhlchen meiner Ruh, der Poesie Klystier.” “(You are) the chamberpot of my peace, and the enema of my poetry.” I am not sure if this guy’s comparison of his poetry to poop was clueless or remarkably self-aware.

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