NATURE'S LOVABLE FRAT BOYS

The flock of crows overhead was much smaller than a day ago while I was outside on the steps with smoke and coffee. But that is probably because the scouts had not found anything good to eat. It's Monday, the supply of left-over pizza is less. A small party flew over, heading north-west. One lone crew perched on a roof-edge at the end of the block, cawing questioningly.

One can imagine what goes through the birds' heads.


"Why is there no stale pizza?!? Oh woe! Oh woe!"


Better not speculate about whatever else they may have to eat this morning. It's grim. The supply of stale pizza is much diminished; young drunken yuppie humans tend to be markedly fewer on Sunday nights, and the neighborhood was quieter by far. If and when the scouts return from their explorational flight, perhaps they will smell deliciously of dough and tomato sauce, having been successful in their hunt, and there will be much joy.
I wish them well. If I had stale pizza, I would spread it out for them.
But, not being a frat boy or e-yuppie, I have none.

All I have are cigarillos at this hour.
And a cup of strong coffee.
An adult breakfast.


The millenials are not doing their part. As I see it, their most useful function is to eat pizza late at night, or bacon wrapped dogs, and be messy, so that my corvid fellow Americans may thrive, and be happy.
They have nothing else to contribute.



Lovable.



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