Painted Planes

If I ruled the world, every airplane would have a face painted on it.
(This probably has something to do with why I don't rule the world.)

From July 24, 2011

From July 24, 2011

From July 24, 2011

"I Liked Goldfinches Better When They're South for the Winter"

Guest Blogger: Cheeps,  Purple Finch

I don't hate Goldfinches, but, to be honest, I like them better when they're south for the winter.  Each spring they fly into town like a bunch of damned locusts.  They act like they own the place.  They perch on our trees and eat at our bird feeders.  Can't they find their own bird feeders?    And aren't there any trees in Florida or wherever the hell they came from?
And then they have to go shove their Goldfinchyness down my throat.  They just have to flash those gold feathers and make their weird goldfinch sounds.  Hello?  This is California.  We speak Purple Finch here.
What really frosts me is how I have to explain to my own fledglings about them, like why we suddenly have to share the birdbath  with a completely different kind of bird.  What if my kids grow up thinking it's okay to be a Goldfinch?  That's we're we're heading.
 Maybe some of us should take a stand.

"This Acorn PROVES the Sky is Falling."

Guest Blogger: Chicken Little

The haters were quick to ridicule me.  "That's an acorn, stupid!" they said.  "The sky isn't falling!  It's not even a solid object!"
The major media and folktale outlets pilloried me.  The academic elites mocked me.  Turkey Lurkey called me a "Dumbass."
Yet Professor Grousey Lousy of Matchbook University bravely observed, "Well, technically I suppose one could argue that much what appears to us as 'sky' is, in fact, bluish light scattered from particles of nitrogen, oxygen and so on.  These particles are subject to the laws of gravity just like everything else, so, in a sense the sky is solid and falling."
So I've been proven right.  Yet the media and children's books remain silent.  Even the Foxy Loxy News Network won't touch my vindication.  Shocking!
So far Ducky Lucky is the only one who weighed in.  "I can reluctantly understand how the sky, in a sense, is falling," he sniffed, "but that doesn't match Chicken Little's notion that it was crashing down in dangerous chunks.  A freaking acorn landed on his head.  Did he turn around to investigate what hit him?  No.  He ran off screaming about the sky.  He's barmy."
Isn't it just like those know-it-all jerks to call me names?  They can't argue logically so they just attack me.  Cowards.
Yes, it's true that an acorn hit my head.  But do you know why?  Because a piece of falling sky knocked it loose!  Prove it didn't!  Prove it didn't!!