Pidgeon grudge

  • Hell is other people.  

That this fact, in fact, is a fact, is not something I’m going to argue here. But there is more to the world than hell. You’ve got the pidgeons for instance.

I don’t know about you guys, but I think alot about evolution. I think: What if we suddenly weren’t the most fit species on the planet? And then I think: Wait a second.. when were we actually the most fit species on the planet? Must have been in the distant past. A proof of this is Slashdot readers who seem to have an opinion about absolutely everything.. being their main reason of existence. We are the most fit species on the web. But we’re also the only one here..

But I’m here to ramble about pidgeons while my dinner is making itself.
(That must be evolution, by the way!)

I met a pidgeon this morning, on my way to catch the subway. I was on my way there, with my backpack and everything, ’cause when you take philosophy you must have a backpack. Philosophy is essentially very heavy stuff. I haven’t weighed it yet, but I think it’s heavier than, say, science of literature. Because philosophy is the bottom-feeder of the course-fishes you have to choose among at the University Restaurant. It doesn’t feed from bottoms, but from the bottom. Take Søren Kierkegaard for instance. He is the bottom. Which is probably why he never wrote anything about pidgeons.

And I was going there, with my backpack as explained, with a cigarette in my left hand and my right one fumbling with the cellphone. I always fumble with stuff when I’m thinking. Stuff being my hair and other not-devices-of-pleasure (you pervert).
..which was when I met this pidgeon.

It was a pidgeon. I’ve previously pointed out the fact how pidgeons are evil, and how they, just like people, often are evil in groups. Towards its own kind too!
So there I was, and there was the pidgeon, and we both stopped.

We looked at each other.
He cocked his pointy eyes at me (meaning he cocked his head sidewise, of course) and looked me in the eyes. The darn bird was sizing me up! I can imagine it repeating its in-bred mantra in its head: "Go for the eyes… go for the eyes.."
Then I realized what was going on. The pidgeon was having a biological flashback, an instinctive memory stored in its genes, from the days it roamed and ruled the earth and us men were but small, stubby rodents. Back in the days when we were the prey and the pidgeons were the predators.

Popular theory has it, you know, that dinosaurs actually evolved into birds. There are many clues leading to this conclusion, and it also explains the sudden existence of birds… if you count anything happening over millions of years for sudden, of course.

So this dinosaur descendant was sizing me up. Taking measures. Mapping weaknesses.
And it all with an inborn grudge.

I have to go and fetch my pizza now before it turns to burnt fossils, but please put this advice in mind for the next time you take a walk in the park, go for a jog or sit down at the street cafés: Never turn your blind eye to the pidgeons!

To add to our current knowledge about existence:

  • Hell is other people. 
  • Never turn your blind eye to pidgeons. 

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