Obsessively, Compulsively Wrong

16 07 2008

HEY! WAIT A SECOND! You know this hurculean piece of junk that Howard Hughes built back in the day?

The fact that this nightmare of “ingenuity” is even in the air

suggests the use of some old-timey photoshop software

I just realized that the name “Spruce Goose,” which I always thought was a rare instance of goose-flattery, is actually kind of an insult! This airplane is a big fat failure! A joke! And you know what the worst part is? It wasn’t even made of spruce! That’s, right: it was a BIRCH goose. Which means they had already settled on the “goose” stamp as a way to insult the aircraft and needed a rhyming kind of wood for their retarded, fact-trampling, species-insensitive bon mot! Well, fuck Howard Hughes, and fuck the trees that gave their life for him. It should have been called a birch…lurch. Furch. There’s bound to be a bird name that rhymes with “birch,” just fucking look it up yourselves. I hate you all so much.

—Nero





Hank the Yank

14 05 2008

Those of you presumptuous mammals that thought Hank the secretly insecure hawk was not your problem, take note: no longer is Manhattan’s biggest red-tailed bully limiting himself to a singular abhorrent brand of bird-on-bird violence.

Weirder and wilder still, he’s upping the ante on New York pride. But you wouldn’t know that from the biased Boston Globe account…

A certain New York Yankee slugger should beware: A student taking a tour of Fenway Park today was attacked by a red-tailed hawk that [drew] blood from the girl’s scalp.

Her name: Alexa Rodriguez. Her age: 13, the same jersey number the Yankee third baseman wears.

“She’s fine, a little shaken, but OK,” said Vince Jennetta, a teacher who chaperoned Rodriguez’s class trip from Memorial Boulevard Middle School in Bristol, Conn.

As a goose that knows Hank well, I think I can shed a little light on this incident. Hank, like most assholes in the area, is actually a die-hard Yankee supporter. It’s so like him to fly all the way to Beantown just to talon up a New England girl who dared to have a name and age vaguely linking her to his beloved third baseman. This is what I’m saying people, the guy is disturbed. He’s a menace. And as glad as I am to see humans getting picked on, I’m too scared to wear my Mets cap.





AW HELL NO

8 05 2008

O NO YOU DID NOT DO THAT SUMNER MISSOURI TELL ME YOU DID NOT CONSTRUCT A HUGE FIBERGLASS STATUE OF MY MORTAL ENEMY FROM HIGH SCHOOL AND DECLARE IT THE WORLD’S BIGGEST GOOSE I WILL SO RAIN DEATH UPON YOUR DUMB MIDWESTERN ASSES IF YOU KNEW WHAT THIS BITCH PUT ME THROUGH IN ONE SINGLE DAY OF ADOLESCENCE YOU WOULD SHIT YOURSELVES OUT OF PITY AND YOU KNOW WHAT START SHITTING YOURSELVES ANYWAY CAUSE I’M COMING FOR YOU

—Nero





It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Both and Thus a Crime Against God

18 04 2008

Oh, how bitterly I laughed when, while recuperating from my arduous migration on the reservoir in Central Park—and don’t think for a second that I’m not relieving myself in your drinking water, New York—I glimpsed one of these screaming by overhead:

There are a few things I want this airline to think about—

1) How many actual geese are sucked into this plane’s engines in a year of service.

2) Copyright infringement (Species-action lawsuit!).

3) Some kind of passenger discount for actual geese.





Raider Of The Lost Lark

16 04 2008

Hey, New York City—I’m sure you’ll claim this is just some big, unfortunate misunderstanding, but in your hearts you know that’s not true, don’t you, ya fucking pigeon-feeders. Admit it, Pope Benedict XVI’s visit was deliberately scheduled to overshadow a more important arrival: mine. There hasn’t been Germano-Gooseish friction this bad since the Hindenburg took out half a flock on its way down.

His Holiness takes precautions against the splattery white shit I’m gonna drop on his head

I can see the newspaper offices now: “Stop the presses! Some ancient former Nazi took a plane across the Atlantic to blow kisses at us!” Meanwhile, I finish up my own thousand mile migration, during which I flew myself, didn’t have the luxuries of peanuts or goddamn drooling naps, and had to fly behind dumbass Donald, who would not stop farting in my face, yet no journalist will come near me. Welcome to the Big Crapple.





Your Goose Is Cooked

11 04 2008

Dear Ted Turner:

Hunting today on your 2.2 million acres was marvelous. Thanks for letting me start the season a week early; I so hate sharing stalking-spaces. You did get the extra $20,000, didn’t you? I Had my chef, Davus, cook up a kill and set the meal in front of the flock it belonged to, just to see the others’ dumb, horrified reaction. A perfect Friday.

Erotically yours,

Caligula





Witness Whiteness

6 04 2008

First of all, I’m not that racist. Second of all, someone needs to shoot every last white goose out of the sky. Not kidding. I’m looking to a species proficient with firearms (monkeys, otters) to help out on this.  

Seriously, we’ve got an overpopulation snafu on our wings up here. My flock only just crossed the Canadian border and I can’t tell you how many times one of these WASPy fucks has flown right into me and then said something in that whiny, nasal white goose voice like: “Martha, I do believe one of these northern ruffians has given me a bit of whiplash about the base of the neck.  Be a dear and massage it with your beak.”  Not realizing, of course, that his wife left his pale ass a week ago to roost up with some Canadian G who’ll treat her right.  

The traditional outdated dress of white geese

The traditional ugly-as-shit garb favored by white geese.