I thought Wikipedia knew about everything. But apparently Wikipedia doesn't even know that I exist. Well, that is going to change, I promise you. Someday, I will have my very own Wikipedia page, even if I have to write the article myself. And by the way, Wikipedia, I'm not even remotely related to Nat Geo.
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I have been getting the weirdest phone calls lately. A lot of them are coming from Searchlight, Nevada. I don't bother to answer them. Doesn't retired Senator Harry Reid have anything better to do? Maybe you don't get the reference. But you can always use your own search engine and find out about this guy. What a fraud! There was another call the other day that I ignored as well, but this time the caller left voicemail. Being curious, I listened to the message, which said the people at Vannity Press, Inc. knew I had a great personal story to tell, and they were eager to publish it for me. One of my avid readers must have told them about me. Anyway, they left a phone number for me to contact them (1-833-VANNITY), which I did. As a result, I'm about to hit the bookstores and newsstands and Costco and Amazon with my very first book, The Art of the Gull. When we get my online store up and running, you'll be able to buy it there, too. Here's a look at the cover. Just thought I'd clear the air about that theory. But I do continue to hear reverberations from Fun Fact Friday #26, in which I attempted to stifle the notion that seagull flatulence could be behind alleged global warming. Some of the repercussions seem to originate on the opposite side of the country. You see, many of my readers are highly attuned to geopolitical and geoeconomic developments (puns intended), and they got a whiff of a vaguely related story emanating from Washington, DC. That's a place where stuff happens, and where it's full to overflowing with this particular kind of stuff. What my readers noticed—as did a cluster of foul-minded, potty-mouthed Twitterers—was the name of a new piece of legislation proposed by the U.S. Trade Representative, the Commerce Department, and some White House economic advisors. It bears the title Fair And Reciprocal Tariff Act. As with much of our current affairs, what could have been a civil discussion on serious issues of national security and prosperity has degenerated into a fetid free-for-all—the object in this case being the trade bill's acronym, which you may have already figured out. The legislation hasn't even been digested by the U.S. House of Representatives, much less been passed out of Congress. In fact, the F--- Act has only escaped into the open air because it was leaked to Axios, a news and information website which was pleased to take a leak. At least the media seems to have moved on from the seagull flatulence story. Not much talk about global warming lately, either. As far as I know, I am the only seagull currently publishing poetry online. There are lots of humans who have posted putrid poetry about seagulls from their narrow humanistic points of view. It makes me sick to my stomach, and as you know, virtually nothing I consume can do that to me. This stuff that passes for poetry about seagulls, and the sand, and the sea—it's awful, appalling, androcentric, aggravating, and annoying. And I will not despoil my own blog by linking to any of it. You can do your own search and see what I mean. Then again, if you'll toss me a few of your French fries, I could be persuaded to change my mind. Meanwhile, stick around and enjoy some real seagull poetry. Read and listen: ![]()
Look. I have never been to Russia. I don't read or speak Russian. I don't think I've ever met a Russian. I don't even think I've ever taken food from a Russian, although I certainly would if the opportunity arose. But I do promote everything seagull. Well, almost everything. As I have mentioned previously, I occasionally encounter references to seagulls that are less than flattering, if not downright inflammatory. And I've posted a whole series of reports on worldwide seagull hate.
"Oh Geo! You just think you're so smart!" I have been hearing the same thing for years and years. And now I hear it even more since I started this blog. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I've always taken this as a compliment. And why not? What good would it do me to go around thinking I'm stupid, when I know I'm not. So I just reply, "Thanks for noticing." And you've probably noticed my blog's subtitle, "The Blog of a Bird-Brain." Now, that wasn't exactly what I originally had in mind. It should have read "The Blog of a Brainy Bird." I think my webbed editor was doing a little editorializing there, even though he claimed it was an honest mistake caused by his alleged dyslexia. What he really means is, he honestly sees me as a bird-brain. But I still take it as a compliment.
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I started this blog by accident. Once it got started, I was unable to stop it. It has taken on a life of its own. It has become part of my daily routine. Nothing can stop me from making a post—gale-force winds, snow on the beach, torrential rain, sneaker waves, you name it. I'm committed, for better or for worse.
Forgive me, then, if I have questioned your commitment from time to time. I mean, what does it take to read these daily briefings—five minutes max? I get it. Reading my blog is not the centerpiece of your daily routine. I think it ought to be, but that's beside the point. I genuinely respect that your life is dominated by other priorities—work, school, children, spouse, church, hobbies, personal hygiene, social media... I've tried a few tricks to attract and keep your attention. Free stuff, for example. And dependable recurrent special features, such as Fun Fact Friday. Educational material that expands your brainpower. Exclusive expert analysis that increases your world of awareness on crucial current issues. Unparalleled humorous content—sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant, often self-deprecating, usually only appreciated by the author, which doesn't necessarily mean it's not funny. We just have different funny bones. The bottom line is, I'm giving you an opportunity to redeem yourself. It will be easy and painless. Here's how: In case you've missed any episodes, don't despair; they haven't vanished into thin air. They are, after all, on the internet. And that means they may survive forever, with or without "Net Neutrality." Just scroll to the Archives list in the sidebar, and click the link to a month of your choice. I recommend starting with the oldest and working your way up to the present. In my humble opinion, every one is an easy read. Most of them even have pictures. Many have musical accompaniment. A few episodes (like this one) come with professionally-voiced audio versions. Some have spectacular slideshows. Some have puzzles. Some are just plain puzzling. Each blog post is impeccably well-written, immaculately proofread, and tightly edited. I can't believe you have read this far. You can and should share your comments with the author and the other one or two readers by clicking—what else?—the Comments link. And why not share this blog with your kids if you have any? It's G-rated (G for Gull, that is). Share it with non-family members at your own risk. Do what I did. Take up the balancing act habit. It's unbreakable. And it's free. For now. This is the kind of thing that turns a decent, law-abiding gull into an activist-- As reported here on the first and the fifth of this month, I have found myself the victim of seagull hate crimes. And of all places, it happened right here on the beach at Bandon. Being on the receiving end of persecution has motivated me to dive back into the turbulent waters of worldwide seagull hate and offer you some evidence of the pervasive prejudice that is now on the rise on America's own shores.
WARNING: I'VE BEEN TRIGGERED! Or have recent events made that fashionable expression "triggered" suddenly become passé? Here's what's gotten under my feathers. I'm still bugged about the commenter who asked: "Geo, have you ever considered how many trees had to be chopped down in their prime, merely to be turned into Popsicle® stick riddles?" I have to assume the individual who submitted this query did not spend any time in southwestern Oregon this past August and September. Those unusual brown skies and blood red sunsets we saw through burning eyes here on the beach at Bandon were the result of nearly 200,000 acres of trees and other living things that went up in smoke about 80 miles away, putting tons of carbon pollution into our summer skies and our lungs. It wasn't just millions of potential Popsicle® sticks that burned to a crisp. Habitats and ecosystems and everything that they contained were destroyed, with many areas rendered sterile for years to come. And the current rainy season is washing the by-products of the inferno downstream. In the wake of the Chetco Bar Fire's devastation, a number of questions have followed. Was this a failure of long-term federal forest policy? Was the initial response inadequate? Could the impact of this blaze have been minimized?
Now, I'm as much of a preservationist and environmentalist as any other bird. Goodness knows we gulls do our share of recycling. But let's all try being guided by the facts and a sense of proportion, huh?
I warned you this could get intense. Now I'm feeling warmed up for a much-anticipated SEAGULL HATE UPDATE. Watch this space! I said everything that needs to be said on Christmas Day. Now what? I went back to yesterday's post and listened to the link at the top. It inspired me to work on my James Brown dance moves out on the beach. But that didn't provide me with great material for today's post. I even dug into the blog archives to revisit my maiden post, just forty days ago. Brief and to the point, it was. I learned how to navigate in my vast, ever-expanding blog archives and find previous gems by re-reading my own highly educational post on the subject.
I tried my trusted trick of last resort, but when I took a deep dive into the nearest dumpster this morning, I came up empty. Nobody seems to be eating Popsicles this time of year. No Chinese take-out leftovers in there, either.
I see I am violating one of my cardinal (or seagull) rules of good writing: Avoid beginning sentences with I. Did I mention that each of the bold, underlined phrases above is a link to something I've posted previously? Did it occur to you there was a reason to follow those links? Just thought I'd ask. Yesterday's post took aim at the growing persecution of gulls in the United Kingdom and elsewhere. Being a gull in good standing myself (even when standing on just one foot), a mixture of fear, outrage, and puzzlement came over me when I found I was being called a pest and a menace. So I poked around a little online and learned more about what was behind the anti-gull movement. The British tabloids have been full of headlines about the use of "anti-seagull drones" and other weaponry as part of a vicious backlash by coastal residents and local authorities to an alleged upswing in seagull "crimes." But exactly what crimes have been committed? I had to dig deeper.
Also in the same article:
"Emily Vincent, 36, says a herring gull killed her Yorkshire terrier in the back garden of her home in Newquay, Cornwall, last week. James Bryce, four, needed medical treatment after a gull bit his hand during a family holiday in St. Ives. It swooped down to grab a sausage roll from his hand but bit his finger instead, leaving a nasty wound." Obviously these so-called victims provoked the attacks with their carelessness—foolishly tempting a hungry gull with an untethered Yorkie or a poorly-clutched sausage roll. If you ask me, the Brits have been seeking a scapegoat to distract from their many societal problems, and we gulls have made an easy target. These incidents have probably been staged or even totally fabricated. It's FAKE NEWS, I tell you! Everyone is so sensitive these days. Here's some of what I posted a few blogs ago: I figured it was obvious that what I said wasn't meant to be taken literally. But already there are some readers out there who want to throw my words back in my face and shove them down my gull gullet.
Look. I self-identify as a Western Gull. That means I hang out along the Pacific Coast. And that makes me a Pacifist. You know—all talk, no action. I couldn't harm a sand flea. There's a "coexist" bumper sticker on my tail feathers. Guess I'll have to get the art department to Photoshop a peace symbol medal hanging around my neck in my official publicity photo. Or some of you out there could just try to chill out a little. Follow my example and take a dip in the scintillating Oregon coast surf. Bone-chillingly refreshing! |
Meet the AuthorHi. I'm Geo the Seagull.
I'm the distinguished Park Host on South Jetty Beach at Bandon, Oregon, USA. I'm a firm believer in First Principles: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Your Lunch. Archives
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