OBSCENE BRUNCH PROPOSITION

My weekend is busier than the rest of the week. Several hours of intense involvement in something smelly, whereupon the more flexible days arrive again. An enjoyable routine.  And one which, on the smelly days, brings a fair amount of human contact.  With equally smell-involved persons.
Everyone needs human contact; without it we go nuts.
We are social animals, and not loners.
Isolation damages us.

Hypothetically, being involved in a bloody riot is human contact, and so is watching sports on television with a whole host of screaming yowling sportsfans getting drunk on visions of spandex and pompoms.
Arguably human.

The discerning and intelligent social animal naturally prefers something else. A connection with more interesting and thoughtful creatures.
If the available choices were limited to rioters, jocks, and, let us say, crows, this blogger would predictably choose the crows.
They too are social animals, keen problem solvers, and gregarious to boot. And, icing on the cake, immensely curious birds. Curiosity is a likable trait, very admirable.
One cannot but like the inquisitive mind.
Or problem solving.

Crows, however, are keenly aware of their limitations. They've realized that human beings do not communicate well, and as tool-users of enormous size have an unfair edge. Leverage and opposable thumbs. Even if they wanted to share a meal with us, we'd probably hog the pigeon carcass and deftly rip it to pieces with our forks or chopsticks before they got their fair share. And, truth be told, humans rarely wish to share dinner with the crows.

We actually resent their communicative ability, "diffently-abled" dexterity (especially as regards forks or chopsticks), and delicacy of dimension.

Which, probably, explains why this box of cookies is quite un-openable. Earlier I would have asked "what sick mind makes a child-proof cookie container", and "why, lord, why", but I think I've figured it out. Trader Joe's has understood that as a gregarious social animal, I am likely to share these tasty Almond Windmill Cookies with the local avian geniuses, and wishes to prevent that. At any cost.
Humans, in the eyes of Trader Joe, should share with humans.
That is why I have little choice but to wait.
The plastic box is "crow proof".
It can't be opened.


Oh well, I guess I'll now head over to the cigar bar to have a smoke with the frenzied sportsfans, all screaming and yowling while having orgasms inspired by big male booties in spandex.
Not quite what I had in mind, but there is little choice.
Damned unattainable cookies!


Tuesday or Wednesday I'll have the time and opportunity to figure out how to open this box of cookies. They are very delicious. I could share them with someone who knows the method whereby the lid may be pried off, if they were to volunteer. For instance, a lovely bright-eyed woman with the curiosity and problem-solving ability of a crow. Together we can do it!
No forks or chopsticks required, even though I'm a tool-user, but someone closer to my own size, and equally deficient in corvid communicative abilities, would probably be advisable.

If she really wanted a pigeon carcass, that could be arranged.
Not quite my taste, but hey, whatever floats the boat.
Some women probably like dead pigeon.
I have a flexible mind.

You can have all of the dead pigeon.
No really. I don't need it.
It's yours.




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