October 11, 2006


-You should go out if it's so nice, go out for a walk.
-Yes, I think I should...I'll leave now!

And so the events were set in motion for one of the most shattering humiliations suffered by The Blue Drone. I set upon what was supposed to be a leisurely holiday stroll. I crossed 16th Street, book bag slung over my shoulder, feeling quite at ease and enjoying the pleasant 70 degree temperature, and then...it happened.
Something hit my forehead, it felt warm, soft and mushy and started trickling down my glasses and down my tender blue cheek. No, this cannot be...even as I saw my vision blurred by a greenish ooze, like when horror movie titles start trickling blood, except this wasn't blood. I had been shat on by a bird...on my face.

There were many passersby, and I had to scramble and find a leaf to clean my precious precious visage, I could see them laugh at me, mock me for a tragic event that in no way I could have prevented. Just a sick sick joke that some godforsaken Starling or Sparrow decided to play on me.
Some say it is good luck to be shat on by a bird. I can see a valid point in this, since if you are defecated on...in public, well...nothing could be more ignoble, except maybe being shat on by an elephant or shit-sprayed by a hippo, which reminds me to be more careful next time I go to the zoo. And I suppose that since birds have cloacas it serves as double the humiliation...being shat and peed on at the same time.

Now, this is where I would normally start adding historical references like "The Greeks thought that bird droppings represented a so-so harvest" or "The Babylonians said that if a bird defecated on you face, it meant that you were a cuckold" and so forth. Except, I didn't find any historical references to bird droppings and luck. What I DID find instead were countless weblog entries detailing "being pooped on by a bird" experiences...and it didn't make me feel special or original...at all. Goddammit I was pooped on!!! I'm special!!! I am!! I really am!!! Am I? Not really.

So the moral of the story is this:

1. It is sometimes better to stay indoors, even if its "really nice" outside.

2. You are not special...you might think you are, but you are NOT.

3. There is no relation between bird droppings and luck, and whoever came up with that is full of (bird)shit!*

*This closing line was probably used by about 300,742 "shat on by a bird" weblog entries...DAMN YOU INTERNET!!!!

October 6, 2006

My my...

What a big head you have, errr...had! !
Is it just pent-up guilt for owing your fortune to your dad's use of Nazi slave labor? Feh! You dead anyway...But I cant help thinking of...

this guy when I see your picture.

October 5, 2006

The Blue Drone Asks:

I had a vague idea of what this meant when I started...Now I'm not so sure. Could you help me come up with a caption?

October 2, 2006

The Blue Drone Lives In A Folly...

No, I'm not at all referring to:
1. A lack of good sense, understanding, or foresight.
2. An act or instance of foolishness: "regretted the follies of his youth. "
3. A costly undertaking having an absurd or ruinous outcome.

Instead, I refer to this folly:

Architecture. a whimsical or extravagant structure built to serve as a conversation piece, lend interest to a view, commemorate a person or event, etc.: found esp. in England in the 18th century.

Hey look at me!!! I'm the King Of The Folly!!! Mwahahahaha! It should be noted that my folly includes an interior pool with capybaras, an apiary for my, ahem... pleasure, and a room with gigantic tapestries...made of bacon, MmmmMmm Baacoonn!

Other notable follies here, but mine is better.

Any recommendations on how to further fix up my folly?