And add a beak and feathers. Sorry, I have no idea what his claws look like. Eggs at first do not have claws. Early on. Later definitely they do. And I'm basically trying to push recollection of the acrimony and vituperation by the angry right wing fossils in the backroom grumbling over their cheroots and digestive discomfort into the back of my head. They were screaming at each other about some damned movie. Not Oppenheimer. Not pink garbage. That other one with the phenomenal anti-Semite which was funded by dark Christian money.
It looks like this summer I shan't go to the movie theatre.
There is precrious little to attract my curiosity.
And pink is not my favourite colour.
Let's do a movie about the life of Harry Potter's owl after he finally killed and ate the kid.
Listening to those emotionally damaged and thoroughly loathsome Marinite Qanonites vituperating has diminished my enthusiasm about going to the movies considerably.
I just want to sit on my pet rock ripping small cretins apart.
Work has been psychically draining.
I'm off tomorrow.
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