The apartment mate is clutching the turkey vulture for comfort; she's worried about her brother. Who, it turns out, is dealing with reality in a way that screams Asperger Syndrome. The turkey vulture is being as therapeutic as he possibly can. He's suggested that what she needs is a nice juicy corpse. And the brother, being so far on the spectrum, sounds, vicariously, like he's utterly incapable of coping with it; it's not an engineering issue.
Maybe a nice juice corpse would solve matters.
I don't know. It's a possibility.
A worthwhile idea.
My own approach to problems like her brother is currently badly dealing with would very likely only be marginally better. He's a more succesfull man, though. So I'll give him credit.
If you're a turkey vulture, everything should result in corpses. Lots of them, nice and juicy.
Vegetables are Irish corpses. Tofu peoples yield lovely corpses. Tubular Americans (sausages) are rather meh. The Dutch (cheese) are sometimes reprehensible. Fish people are nice. So are chicken leg people. He particularly praises the chicken leg people, they're yummy!
He also likes buttered soft-boiled eggs.
Years ago I dealt with unpleasant matters in my life by obsessively talking about food, as well as pipes and pipe tobacco. Obviously those are much nicer subjects for discussion than the actual issues. And can be happily dealt with even when the problems have faded, and do not need further fogging over. People vastly prefer to read and speak of happy things.
When turkey vultures smile, it's actually rather frightening.
Just accept it with the warmth which was intended.
Some birds have curved rippity beaks.
It's a social handicap.
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