January 14, 2011
I’d like to know if they put the parrot on the witness stand. Poor bird, they can’t even offer Polly a cracker for fear that the defense would consider the testimony coerced. But you see, it’s true that life is sometimes just one bad joke after another. Like this one:
Before the collapse of communism, this Russian guy loses his pet parrot. He looks everywhere, all around the neighborhood, in the park, everywhere. He can’t find the parrot. Finally he goes around to the KGB office, and tells the desk officer his problem. The officer is a little puzzled. “Look, comrade, I’m sorry you lost your bird, but this is the KGB. We don’t handle missing animal reports.” “Oh, I know that”, says the guy. “I just wanted you to know, if you do find my parrot… I don’t know where he could have picked up all his political ideas.”
Forget the expression “bird brain,” let’s see you lure a date back to your house of dung. If you decorated your house with “garlands of feces glistening with dew” you’d be in, pardon the pun, deep shit. But if you were a bird you’d be sleeping with the prom queen.
You’ve got to hand it to the birds, though. They take dung, use it to find a mate, and make a home out of it. What do we do? We make this:
Now who’s the bird brain?
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