I've just been informed that I am the subject of an FBI dossier. That's a French word that means a file full of papers containing made-up stories about things somebody else imagines I might have done sometime when I wasn't some place I've never been, that someone I've never met swore they saw me doing before I was even born. Now, I'm no worry-wort. I don't panic easily. Generally, I oppose alarmism. But, using an expression widely expressed by so many highly-erudite, culturally-elite, well-tempered, conventionally-wise talking heads these days—I have become "deeply concerned." If I should reach the level of being "gravely concerned," you may find yourself reading the musings of a fill-in blogger in my place. For now, I'm still here. And responding to my internal defense mechanism, I whipped out my poetic license and voiced my concerns in the form of a poem. Note: For those of you who are hard of reading, and anyone else who cares to listen, please try to find the Download File link below, so you can click it and experience a dramatic oral interpretation of my latest literary effort. ![]()
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I think I've made a grievous mistake. Yesterday, I posted my newest song/poem here. It was inspired by current events, but not based on real events. In other words, it was pure fiction. Not to be taken literally. And in my mind, it was totally acceptable under the terms of my poetic license. But now my legal team tells me I should have cleared it with them first, due to the sensitive nature of the subject matter. Why must everyone be so touchy? I'm not sure what the ramifications will be, now that yesterday's post has been published and is probably out there in cyberspace forever. Even though it's probably too late to cover my tracks, I am going to pretend that yesterday never happened. Maybe I can just casually delete yesterday's post. Today I will at least do what my legal advisers say I should have done in the first place. In the interest of national security, I am replacing the unabridged lyric sheet and the unedited recording of my song/poem with heavily-redacted versions, both in print and in audio. I hope the next message in a bottle that washes up on my beach isn't a grand jury subpœna. ![]()
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I've never been to Russia. Although I hear it can be extremely cold, a lot of gulls still seem to like it there. Siberian gulls even breed on the tundra. I would be afraid of either freezing to death or starving to death. Do they even have landfills out there on the tundra? I've been hearing a lot about Russia recently. Fake news stories, podcasts about fake news stories, books about fake news stories, etc. But I haven't heard any songs or read any poems on the subject. Since I'm always trying to be first, I was motivated to write what could be the first song of its kind about a meeting with a Russian. Because I am forbidden to sing--with good reason, I must admit—I am only allowed to perform my song as a poem set to music. Have you ever encountered a word that you just can't get out of your mind? So you just have to do something with that word to get it out of your system? That happened to me when I heard the word oligarch. Apparently there are only oligarchs in Russia, because you never hear of any oligarchs anywhere else in the world. And I have heard the word oligarch one time too many. As a result, my head became so full of thoughts about oligarchs one night that I couldn't sleep until I pulled this song out of my brain. It's a short story that revolves around intrigue and food. It's what they used to call a "topical" song. I think that means you can apply it on a rash. I'm giving you the lyrics in case you can't understand my accent. ![]()
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. I've checked the analytics. I've counted up the hits. I'm the rankest of the ranked. I've made it to the top! It's official—balancing act is now... It helps to be sui generis, you know.
So it's the day after the demise of the Seagull News Network (the network formerly known as SEANN). To avoid depression, I must quickly redirect my creative, entrepreneurial energy. Fortunately, my anchor, my beet reporter, and my cameraman were not yet under contract. So we're all free to go our separate ways.
I've done it again!
I've just hatched another life-changing plan. Sparks have been flying inside my seagull skull. My world-renowned entrepreneurial spirit is on the move, and I'm about to launch my latest venture: an all-news channel. I've been studying niche-market broadcasting, and I believe I've found an overlooked and underserved population. It's going to be the first all-news channel that's strictly for the birds. I'm calling it SEA-NN—The Seagull News Network. You have to enunciate each letter, to avoid pronouncing it the same as that other news channel. That's why I've brought in my friend the volunteer professional radio announcer to voice the SEA-NN sounder. Unlike that other channel, I can't afford James Earl Jones. So I've settled for a reasonable facsimile. Just click or tap the SEA-NN logo below, and you'll hear what I'm talking about. If the voice you hear seems to be saying "yanni" or "laurel," there's either something wrong with your equipment or you need to make an appointment with the nearest otolaryngologist. Call me a "prepper" if you want. I've been called much worse. I am proud to say I am uniquely prepared for any doomsday scenario. I can survive any form of natural disaster you can imagine—earthquake, fire, flood, famine, pestilence, volcanic eruptions, the rogue planet Nibiru nearly colliding with Earth... The latter is believed by some evangelical Christians to be the event that triggers the Rapture, the second coming of Christ that ushers in the end times. And they think the planets and stars are aligned just right for that to happen today. We'll see what happens. They could be right. What—me worry? I'm confident that even when the world ends, there will still be leftovers I can pick through for sustenance. They didn't give me the nickname "garbage gut" for nothing. I've also heard that Armageddon could be nigh because Federal Communication Commission rules will take effect today that eventually will nullify the so-called "Net Neutrality" regulations that haven't really quite gone into effect themselves. (A convoluted, government-inspired sentence, that last one.) There are some who believe the death of Net Neutrality will signal doom for the internet. Yet, somehow the internet survived, prospered, and fostered innovation for a over quarter century with minimal government interference and without Net Neutrality.
To paraphrase the concession speech Richard Nixon gave in 1962, when he failed to unseat Pat Brown for the governorship of California, "You won't have Geo to kick around anymore." It's not that I have been running (or flying) for anything, and then lost. But I do have a terribly sad announcement to make today. I have been diagnosed with Degenerative Adult Dork Syndrome (DADS). And there is no known cure. So I'm afraid this is going to be my last blog post. Please don't cry! APRIL FOOLS! Okay. That's the story of my life—a day late and a punchline that falls short of its mark. Let's go out on a serious note. Today is World Autism Awareness Day. That's what all the blue is about. Musical link by Fats Domino, 1956.
This is the "future post" I promised yesterday. For this Fun Fact Friday, let's take a brief look at a famous seagull legend. Could it be fact, or is it merely folklore inspired by an underlying foundation of truth? In Salt Lake City's Temple Square stands a monument to the state bird, oddly named the California Gull. Thousands of these particular gulls are said to have swarmed into the fields of the Great Basin at the very moment that armies of crawling crickets were about to consume all of 1848's crops. Was this Utah's miracle or Utah's mythology?
For the Mormon settlers, the seagulls were saviors. For the seagulls, it was instant breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert for a few days. Of course, we'll take the golden statue as a bonus. And the Salt Lake Gulls baseball club, too. P.S. You are welcome to suggest a topic for the next Fun Fact Friday. Just click the Comments link in the top right corner of this blog post. References (because I didn't just make this up): www.mrm.org/seagulls mentalfloss.com/article/29551/why-utah-loves-seagulls-not-crickets en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miracle_of_the_gulls holyfetch.com/the-miracle-of-the-seagulls/ www.mormonthink.com/glossary/seagullmiracle.htm onlinelibrary.utah.gov/research/utah_symbols/bird.html Referring to yesterday's post, I really can't say what's in the memo (because I really don't know). I'm not even sure who wrote the memo. And now I've been told not to mention the memo again. (I think there was an unspoken "or else..." associated with that particular request.) I'm sure some of you are beginning to think I'm a conspiracy nut. Nut, yes. Conspiracy nut, no. I'm just a lovable but cautious, moderate and unremarkable, button-down seagully kinda guy. If I were only a left-winger or only a right-winger, I would fall out of the sky every time I tried to fly. If anything, I'm a skeptic. I only believe what I can swallow whole—which, come to think of it, is practically anything short of a grey whale. And apparently this is one whale of a memo! Ooooooops! I accidentally mentioned the you-know-what again. I just might have to start encrypting my blog posts. Maybe like this: Yes, I finally got an H ! SCORE! And you can tell they're made with REAL Cheese because they leave really oily footprints on paper bags. Or could that be a message of some kind?
To be continued. 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! |
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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