Posted by: Andy | July 30, 2009

Why Crows are Dicks.

I consider myself a decent, caring individual – A type of guy who treats everyone how I would hope to be treated in turn. I donate to charity, open doors for the elderly and buy and consume more Girl Guide cookies than I should. (Guiness has been called twice.)

I also respect all of God’s creatures. There have beentimes that I have scooped spiders or a wayward ant into a plastic tumbler and escorted it outside of my humble abode so they could crawl and creep out someone another day. Hell – I almost killed myself once avoiding a rabbit on a major highway.(Oddly there was no lupine clause with my Insurance Broker – go figure)

OK, Ok – If I write any more testimonials about how nice of a guy I am I suspect a rainbow will probably shoot out my ass and a unicorn will show up letting me know I am replacing Jesus. So I’ll move on.

Speaking of Unicorns. If God had the ability to have draft picks for trades in the animal kingdom (Sort of a fantasy – fantasy league) I’m pretty sure that Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster or even Snorks would have been a better choice to plague us than crows.

Fuck Crows.

If I wanted to be woken up by a bird I would live on a freakin’ farm and rise to the dulcet tones of a rooster. That’s why he’s there. That’s his job. That why God created them. Other than nailing a harem of hens and having to put up with the pigs constant FogHorn LegHorn impersonations, the rooster knows his place and job description.

Crows are every other persons annoying shrill alarm clock. The difference is a crow has a snooze alarm that goes off every 30-45 seconds. And if you’re lucky – you get treated to a crow chorus line. The only problem is crows do not take requests or have rich Southern Baptist training in moving, spiritual offerings. They are one syllable ass-holes who have no respect for those of us who work hard all week and want to sleep in.

Roosters are Harry Connick Jr. Crows are a drunken Courtney Love.

They smart too.

Crows aren’t afraid of you. Have you noticed them on the side of the highway picking at leftover bits of a raccoon that failed in a game of Frogger? You could be doing 120km per hour and the crow doesn’t fly away in terror. It does a few jumps past the yellow line and waits for you to pass. That’s right – it does two skips and a fuck you and then goes back to his road-kill brunch.

Crows also share the same enigmatic ability a cow in a field does over humans. The ability for some unknown reason to provoke you into uttering animal talk as if it’s going to talk back. You know you’ve done it. This alone is why crows feel superior to us but share occasional kinship with cows (before they steal their wallets) How many times have you Kaw`d at a crow. Who the Hell do we think we are Dr. Dolittle?

Crows tried to screw over Dumbo in that movie. You make a movie called the Crow and someone dies. Sure you can argue how cool the band the Black Crows are but that is instantly negated by the Counting Crows.

Crows still have resentment issues since Poe went another way with that story.

A group of crows is called a Murder which is appropriate since that’s what your mind quickly races to after about 15 minutes of DJ Jazzy Douche and the Fresh C discussing Fox News directly outside your fucking window at 6am.

Crows don’t take vacations either. You’re treated to them year long. Crows are the equivalent of that creepy free-loading, invasive relative that comes for a brief visit but doesn’t leave. EVER. Crows are the avian equivalent of herpes.

Crows are the single reason why I am now forced to recycle properly. Because if for some reason I leave one sliver of expired pepperoni 2 feet deep in a Glad Hefty Cinch Sack – they will find it and in turn litter the street with a 6 foot radius of trash – so you can enjoy a sickening and humiliating game of “Pick up Shit” (patent pending by Hasbro) when you get home after work. Crows enjoy sitting around and laughing at the people that have to cover their garbage with bed sheets, gaudy left-over carpet swatches or 70’s era rugs in a vain effort to keep them and their ass-hole beaks out of your discarded bags of nibbles. Even if they can’t get at it – they are satisfied that you had to exert extra effort to do so.

Garbage day is in essence an orgy of green and black Pinatas to a crow.

And don’t kid yourself – if a crow can’t get into your green bin – they have the racoons on speed dial.

Crows also contribute to the increasing low level of decent mens line of clothing selections at Frenchy’s. Continued dressing of scarecrows in fields in attempts to fend off the bastards just means fewer items to sift through at thrift shops. If crows aren’t afraid of a two ton truck barrelling at them at 140km/h do you really think a red plaid work shirt and brown cords adorned with wacky placed patches is going to keep your corn safe?

Next time you see a crow – do me a favour. Tie a French fry to some dental floss, get in the car and make a day of it.

They deserve it.

Finally – as much as I don’t care much for our neighbours to the South at times – I will give them this – they have made it legal to hunt crows. Yes for a few glorious months, crows have the same rights a Deer, Moose, Elk and Democrats. None.

God Bless America.

Mmmm I smell five day old Beef-a-roni - Score!

Mmmm I smell five day old Beef-a-roni - Score!

And Screw you Heckyl and Jeckyl.

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Responses

  1. Yeah Yeah I realize it was posted originally on Facebook but really that meant only 267 people could have read it.


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