Through the Looking Glass: 8. Ornithocide... A Species War

Monday, November 19, 2012

8. Ornithocide... A Species War

The upcoming American Thanksgiving Holiday will mark another dark day in the annals of Ornitholia. Approximately forty five million citizens of our persuasion will be put to the slaughter for that occasion. In related events as many as ten million more are likely to perish.

A once accidental occurrance of such magnitude would be heartbreaking enough but as an annual event it becomes apparent that Ornithocide is being sanctioned on a planetary scale.

Upon investigation it has been discovered that our citizens are spending their lives in confinement. From birth to cruel slaughter they are penned and enclosed for no other reason than to be sacrificed on this date. Pumped full with antibiotics and growth hormone these helpless prisoners are grown to the point where flight is not an option even if the doors of their turkey prisons were thrown open.

Such a depraved situation cannot be allowed to continue to exist.

This is a call for all citizens of to join us in the Avian Resistance and Social Experiment or ARSE for short.

If Arab Spring can be started and won with the help of social media, our cause can begin there as well. To accelerate our ends of freedom for our turkey cousins we are providing cell phones and social media accounts to all avians that who wish to join. Plans are afoot to establish training camps where members will be trained to dive crap the perpetrators of this vileness with pinpoint accuracy. Any further ideas to further our cause will be welcome.

Obviously such a plan of liberation is long term and will require patience past the setbacks and heartbreak sure to come. As well, funding for the hardware and training camps are essential. Please dig deeply and contribute what you can... even a single loonie might help win this war.

Donations are gratefully accepted and will be received at:

loonietic@ARSE.ca

If you have any peferances our brother and sister affiliates are also collecting for the cause.

accounting@dodobird.com

vulture@pickyourbones.net

wakeup@magpie.ca

Thank you

T.Urkey, Chairbird for ARSE

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Introduction

Having moved at least twenty-five times in fifteen years has opened a world of learning to me. In six decades, an education ranging from the coldness of large cities to the isolation of remote rural locations to the busybody gossip of small towns and the wonder of the prairie and it's ocean of grass have all left their impressions on me.

Recently I relocated to a small city in British Columbia. It touted itself as a historical, cultural, educational and, over-all wonderful, place to live. Once I was past the trees and the rocks, the heights and the hills, the water and the wind, I calmed down and was ready to look at the people I was sharing that space with.

Every location I have ever squatted has had it's share of characters. Players in the cities along with the wide range of tinfoil hat wearers and baggy pants skaters were a given. Pop up strangers at odd hours surprised me with their appearance in the middle of nowhere. Rumours of my serial killer past from neighbours I had never met never swayed me. The wonder of gazing on the effects of wind on the grass ocean interrupted by a landowner enquiring why I was leaning on his fence was oft forgiven.

In this new locale a variety of characters as I had experienced elsewhere was a given. The density and variety of them however gave me more surprise than I would have expected.

I had heard comments about this place being a time warp to the sixties. However I only saw few that , by their appearance, I could say lived through the sixties. What apparitions appeared were younger and more colourful than I remember from that vague decade.

Purple haired strong armed accordionists, heavy head shaved violinists clutching tiny instruments, winter coated scarf wrapped individuals in shorts and oddly calm people with large coffees wandered the streets.

They wandered in and out of new age crystal shops, expressed opinions on local radio, bought nothing but organic food. They played jazz on squeeze boxes, made strings and wood sing in ways not intended, talked to themselves as they tightened their scarves and became more serene with each sip of coffee.

Characters here are more concentrated than in any other locale I have ever lived. It is a point of interest as well as point of concern.

It remains to be seen whether I will be mugged with organic carrots, side swiped by hooligan mountain bikers, be harangued with advice on dressing warmly or kept awake nights by jazzy sounds from an errant squeeze box. Whatever the outcome I am certain I could find it in no other place on earth to explore these particular uncertainties.

Until I am transplanted again, I extend every new-ager and boarder, every subculture economist and spiritualist, every would-be and wanna-be my deep thanks for extending me the opportunity of educating myself one measure more.