for maria
I HAVE A WHOLE JAR OF MY PARROTS FEATHERS YOU CAN HAVE I CANT CALL YOU CAUSE I DONT HAVE LONG DISTANCE SO E-MAIL ME
Maria…
I just met a girl named Maria,
And suddenly the name,
will never be the same,
to me.
Maria…
I HAVE A WHOLE JAR OF MY PARROTS FEATHERS!
YOU CAN HAVE!
I CAN’T CALL YOU CAUSE
I DON’T HAVE LONG DISTANCE!
Yep – Sondheim was a hack.
Thanks, Thomas!
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I get the feeling the parrot is probably still in them.
I wonder if the parrot’s name is Skippy.
“Bereft of life, ‘e is!”
‘e’s run up the white flag and joined the choir invisible!
** Sits quietly in corner and waits for Windrose to arrive with can of whoop-ass… **
You want her to make him an ex-Taco?
That parrot is no more. He has ceased to be!
Nevermore?
Pinin’ for the fjords, ‘e was; muscled up t’ ’em bars and “whoosh!”
‘Ere’s all’s’at’s lef’–feathers. Be’utiful plumage, y’r Norwegian Blue.
p.s. the parrot is dead, and Catasstrophy said she has no idea what happened.
I had a cat that could have earned one of those trophies once. (Half manx – the vet described her as “rumpy.”) Sadly, she’s passed on, and never entered the contest officially.
Manx mix owners represent! I’ve got a 16-year-old half manx that is quite the character, and still going strong. And I know there are a few more manx owners out here…
I would be one.
Mine was out of a breedhouse. Classic gold mackerel tabby stumpy. Just with a mis-matched “sock” and a male “tortoiseshell.” Breedhouse (may they ever rot in unending Perdition) had been raided/shut down.
Kittens were neutered too early (especially after being weaned too early and not socialized to either cats or people) and out out to adoption.
So, these poor people wound up with a kitten that grew to 20# and two foot shoulders to hips. Which is why he was in the Shelter when I found him. Been ten years (in March) of teaching him to be a cat, and part of a bachelor pride.
Q: Why can’t Maria eat brownies?
A: Because she’s dead.
Maria is a zombie. She prefers brisket. Rare. Very rare.
How do you pluck a parrot for Maria?
How do you catch the bird and pin it down?
What do you call the guy who plucks the parrot?
A parrot plucker! A Sparky! A clown!
Many a thing you know you’d like to tell her,
Many a thing she ought to understand,
But how do you call her up
When you don’t have long distance?
Maybe you ought to reach her through CraigsList.
Oh, how do you pluck a parrot for Maria?
How, when you have those feathers in your head?
Most excellent Camille – The hills are alive with the sound of squawking parrot……
Parrot Feathers is my Eagles cover band.
Anything with Parrot in the name is contractually obligated to be a Jimmy Buffett cover band.
Parrot In a
BottleJar is my Jim Croce cover band.Parrot in a Jar is what should happen to Jimmy Buffett.
Before or after he steps on a poptart?
You go to a Buffett show more for the crowd than to hear Bubba sing (the intoxicated around you rather negate the ability to pay much attention to JB anyway).
I keep hearing “pop tart” rather than “pop top” and have wondered if that is something Bubba said at a concert, or if it is a cultural artifact of the age of dangerously-sharp pop-top as litter being long gone.
Parrot in a Coma is my Jimmy Buffett/The Smiths mashup cover band.
I’d totally go to a Parrot in a Coma show, if for no other reason than to people-watch the audience.
What about a Dead Parrot show?
That many Hawaiian shirts and Pompadours would make me wonder if I accidentally ended up at a Stray Cats reunion show.
Windrose?
8)
I’ve lost her address, so I can’t mail the jar to her. And the parrots keep dropping more and more feathers. I hate throwing them away. 8)
In the wild, parrots trade their own feathers for coconuts, filberts, and mates. The longer the feather, the more filberts it’s worth. (/corey)
What’s the mate-t0-feather-length exchange ratio?
And does quill size matter?
Size always matters, but also color and the individual parrot’s ability to manipulate the feather. So mate to feather is a hard on to calculate. 8)
You just made Bianchi very, very happy.
🙂
DON’T TRY TO BULLTAME ME!
Actually, I think the ploy was to PARROTPLUCK you!
He may prefer a pheasant pluck. Just sayin’.
If it was me, I’d go for a DUCKPLUCK.
I’ve heard that Duck Pluckers are Schmucks.
PS — Lola, congratulations on another day in the box! Relax, have a mani-pedi, put on some lipstick, sip your favorite beverage! It’s a great day to be Lola!
Preferably the one that comes in the flask!!! Spas make me impatient. I don’t think that’s their desired effect.
Wot? Thank you, Windrose! I hadn’t seen it ’til you said something.
Lola totally needs to answer her phone, “It’s a great day to be Lola! How can I help you?
“Hello this is TacoMagic, do you want me to magic your taco?”
*Click*
I thought Duck Pluckers liked to eat Smuckers jam. I think Willard Scott said that the other day.
Ssshhh, I have 45 minutes left to go before the end of work. If anyone calls and I answer that way, it will probably doom me to staying late.
Maybe when I get home, however …
It’s just as well Sparky doesn’t have long distance. He would probably yell on the phone too, to make sure she could hear him so far away.
Floyd Narwooly Crunkton looked over the grisly scene. Feathers seemed to coat every surface of the old woman’s home. And those surfaces not coated with feathers would probably still need to be cleaned; it was dusty in here, almost too dusty.
The parrot bomber had been terrorizing the city for nearly a month now. In that month Floyd had bagged more feathers for the police than perhaps he’d ever expected to. But, he had been trained for this. The online detective university where he’d studied had put a strange focus on cleaning up bird feathers from crime scenes. It had seemed odd at the time that he would need to learn this particular set of skills, but now he was glad of it.
After a flurry of plucking, sweeping, gathering, and stuffing, Floyd had another full bag. It was amazing how much plumage could fit onto a parrot. Or at least it had been amazing, now it was simply part of the job.
“Love is a battlefield *KABOOM* *Ratatatatatata*”
Floyed flipped open his phone, “Hello?”
“Hello,” echoed from his phone.
“Ahh, Polly. Good. Can you contact Sgt. Kimmlert at the LAPD? We’ve got another one.”
“Pretty Polly, cracker, Raawrt?”
“Yes, yes. You can have one. Just make sure Kimmlert sends over a squad to pick up the evidence, he’ll know where it is.”
“Raawrt! Don’t eat that! Polly, shut up!”
“Exactly, oh and pick up my dry cleaning too. I forgot about it this morning and won’t have time to get over there before they close.”
“Raawrt! Hello! Raaw-*BOOOOOM*
“Oh God! Polly? POLLY?! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Jimmy Buffett + Brooks and Dunn + Sylvia Plath (or maybe Eleanor Rigby)
I know that there is something in that combo but my Snark Processor is on the fritz. Maybe Santa will bring me a new one for Christmas.
A magician was working on a small cruise ship. He does the same act week in and week out, with a new audience every week. However, the Captain’s parrot is able to watch the show every night.
After many weeks, finally the parrot figures out how the tricks work and starts giving the secrets away to the audience. For example, when the magician makes a bouquet of flowers disappear, the parrot squawks “Behind his back! Behind his back!”
Well, the magician get really annoyed at this, but what can he do? He can’t complain to the Captain.
One day, the ship starts taking on water and eventually sinks. The magician manages to swim to a plank of wood floating by and grabs on. There sitting on the other end of the plank is the parrot.
They just stare at each other and drift. They drift for 3 days and just stare at each other but still don’t speak.
On the morning of the fourth day, the parrot looks over at the magician and says: “OK, I give up. Where did you hide the ship?
A magician goes to a pet shop to replace his tame doves (tragic linking rings accident, best not to mention it) but finds they are out of doves. The only bird available is an old parrot who had once belonged to a reclusive shut-in who had taught it all manner of foul language. Desperate, the magician takes the bird home and begins trying to train it. Every time he starts going through the routine, the bird begins piling insult after insult on him. Unable to take it anymore, he seizes the bird and thrusts it into the freezer. There is a flurry of scratching and squawking, followed by a thick silence. Worried he might have killed the bird, the magician opens the freezer door. The parrot hops out and lands on his arm. “Sir, I am so very sorry for my coarse language. I will try to hold my tongue from now on.” The bird paused. “Might I ask … What did the chicken do to piss you off?”
dur dur…
So you’re saying that the frozen fowl fixed the flawed feathered fellow’s foul howls?
What? Finicky, felonious fowls fly for fierce feathers frozen forever in flawed, frictionless flasks? Forsooth!
I don’t think I could say that, EB.
Ever.
TM is disqualified for
not making sensemaking even less sense than usual.A lady is on her way to work, and she passes by a pet shop. As per usual, the parrot is outside, because it’s a nice day. Suddenly, the lady hears a voice.
“Hey, lady!”
She looks around bewildered before realizing the parrot was the one who called her. She says, “What do you want, Parrot?”
The parrot responds (quite smugly I may add), “You’ve got one ugly mug.”
With a gasp of indignation, the lady pivots on one heel and trots off.
***
The next day, she passes by the same shop.
The parrot calls out, “Hey, lady! You’re pretty!”
Surprised, the lady says, “Really?”
“Yeah, pretty ugly!”
Upset, the lady storms off.
***
Over the next week, the lady passes by the shop every day on her way to work, and every day, the parrot informs her that she is ugly. Finally, fed up, on Saturday, she goes into the shop and demands to see the owner.
The owner says, “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes. Every day, I pass by this shop on my way to work, and every day, that… that bird of yours assaults me verbally regarding my physical appearance,” say the lady.
Confused, the owner asks, “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she says, “Every day, I pass by your shop, and every day, that bird calls out ‘Hey, Lady.’, and every day, he calls me ugly.”
“So, you want him to stop telli- calling you ugly?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well,” the owner says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
That Monday, the lady passes by the shop on her way to work.
“Hey, Lady!” calls out the parrot.
“Yes, Parrot?” she asks.
The parrot glares at her and says softly, “You know.”
Well, if we’re still doing parrot jokes…
A woman went to a pet shop and immediately spotted a large, beautiful parrot. There was a sign on the cage that said $50.00. “Why so cheap,” she asked the pet store owner. The owner looked at her and said, “Look, I should tell you first that this bird used to live in a brothel and sometimes it says some pretty vulgar stuff.”
The woman thought about this, but decided she had to have the bird any way. She took it home and hung the bird’s cage up in her living room and waited for it to say something. The bird looked around the room, then at her, and said, “New house, new madam.”
The woman was a bit shocked at the implication, but then thought “that’s really not so bad.” When her 2 teenage daughters returned from school the bird saw and said, “New house, new madam, new girls.”
The girls and the woman began to laugh about the situation considering how and where the parrot had been raised. Moments later, the woman’s husband came home from work and the parrot said, “Hi, Keith!”
EB, that Keith fellow probably had a bad case of chirpies, too.
Ow.
Parrot feathers: My irrational phobia du jour.
I’d be more afraid of a “whole jar” of parrot beaks.
Eew.
Then this colored bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore”
E.A. Poe originally considered using a parrot for the poem, but the raven seemed a little more condescending I guess. Given the timeless nature of the poem, I suppose he was right.
That tidbit was deserving of [corey] tags.
I heard that S.T. Coleridge considered using a parrot as well, but decided that hanging a parrot from one’s neck just didn’t nail it visually.
Also, I am in the hospital for a few days, so I get to hang out with you folks all day!
Best wishes on your hospital stay!
Goodness Steve! Hope you’re okay!
In hospital, Steve? Hope it’s not serious! And may all your nurses be FABULOUS!! 😉
Take care, get better and don’t go too crazy (just the right amount for YSaC), Steve-O!
Thank you one and all. Its a leg infection in the deep tissue, kind of like strep throat in the muscle, but the doctors are getting a handle on it. Thanks for the warm wishes.
Oh no! I’m glad it’s been figured out and you’re getting treatment. Did Dr. House figure it out for you?
Mmmm… Green jello. Daytime T.V. The joys of hospitalization. Glad you’re ok., or will be soon.
Well, always remember the people making your food never have to eat any of it. And, when the sparky in the next bed insists on watching programs with nothing but fast food commercials, that is something of a validation exercise–just keep thining at the less-good tissue: Sooner we’re out of here, sooner we are to real food! Heal!Heal!Heal!Heal!
I can’t believe the crap they feed sick people in hospitals. The last time I was in one, I couldn’t get a grilled-chicken anything to save my life. It appears breaded chicken fingers are perfectly acceptable heart-healthy hospital food. And if you’re vegetarian—forget it!—starve you poor pathetic wretch! I should have packed Lola’s flask.
I actually liked the food when I was in after I had MiniEB… I think there was only one meal (out of 3 days) where I didn’t eat everything I was given. Of course, when I got out I was craving really yummy French Toast, but that’s besides the point :-p
EB: That’s probably because you don’t live in a state that considers Funnel Cakes to be their official state food.
Mmmm. Funnel Cakes!
Well, there are quite a few benefits to being in the hospital I’ve transported to my entire career. My own room, decent food, basically any meds I want, doting service, and pleasant company. I have no complaints, other than bed rest. It’s good to be loved, thanks for the support.
I’ve been gone all day, but get well soon. Better late than never, right?
I’m going to echo NMN’s response. Get better quickly, but enjoy the rest while you can.
Steve-O, some people will do anything for attention! 8) You get better, or we will find your room and strew parrot feathers all over it!
I like to imagine that they have some bizarre romance going on and this was the one thing he had to do before she could “give herself to him fully”.
He’s dating one of the female Knights Who Say Ni, apparently.
Avian Haiku
I have a whole jar
of plucked parrot parka skin
just for maria.
Sweet!
Now my angry mob and I can tar and feather in style!
OT-ish: Windrose, I found this picture in my RSS feed this morning and thought of you. It’s actually oddly topical for today…. http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MthruF/~3/FRPaf8PDGSk/
EB, that’s adorable! I almost got an Indian Ring Neck, but a blue one. Long story as to why I didn’t. 8) Thanks for the grin!
I was going to try and be a smartass by pointing out that Leonard Bernstein wrote West Side Story, not Sondheim, but it turns out Sondheim wrote the book while Bernstein wrote the music. I had always thought Bernstein wrote both the lyrics and the music. So remember kids, always do your research before trying to be a smartass!
Pppbbbbtttt.
The only philosophy you need when it doesn’t matter anyway.
Someday, I’ll be on Jeopardy.. and that will be the winning answer. 🙂
Only if you phrase it, “What is Pppbbbbtttt?”
Just remember me when you see the show.
[Broadway musicals Corey] Bernstein wrote the music, Sondheim wrote the lyrics, and Arthur Laurents wrote the book. [/Broadway musicals Corey]
I think Richard Simmons did the choreography….
And he was (sing-song) FABULOUS!!
[Broadway corey]
Jerome Robbins is the choreographer. I saw the revival over the summer and that is some fiercely balletic and demanding dancing, in street clothes and sneakers, no less. It’s a little more challenging than “Sweatin’ to the Oldies.”
[/show corey]
Lola, you gave me a Snark-Slapdown with that [Broadway corey]!
NY, NY…the city so nice they named it redundantly.
Mudsy, are you sure they didn’t name it twice redundantly?
Not my intent to slap, sweetie … just sharing a corey where I knew the facts and had seen them personally!
Twice redundantly would have been redundant! And just plain silly.
🙂
Lola: *sigh* if you must. 😉
**stares long and good at BassBone**
It’s about time the snark lounge got a tromboner…
You’re right, Astro, a ‘boner is a hard on to find sometimes.
Not if one is a teenage boy, from what I am told …
You would be correct, Lola. Not hard to find at all.
I am happy the jar has parrot feathers in it. It could have been a much more vile collection.
I guano be loved by you, just you, and nobirdy else but you!
I guano be loved by you, alone! Poo-poo-pe-do!
But the important question is just how big is the jar?
What takes up more room, one jar of feathers or one jar of zomb-
Yes.
Does it really matter?
Yes, if it’s a small jar, it wouldn’t take many feathers to fill it, but if it’s a really large jar, it would take a lot of feathers to fill it and would consequently take longer to finish filling unless Sparky regularly plucked the parrot.
But it’s still a jar of feather.
Why do I get the feeling that by posting this ad, Sparky is violating at least two restraining orders and validating Maria’s decision to move three state away?
Why are you incognito today?
I can’t figure out why. No matter what I try, i’m a quilt square when broadcasting from my effing berry of color.
It’s because your email address from your berry is comcast.com, where the other one is comcast.net. I think you can add the comcast.com address on gravatar.com and it will show up right.
**Facepalm*
Thank you O wise and benevolent Llamanun. Bees be ever upon you for not calling me a jackwagon and pointing out what a lousy detective I’d make.
Ain’t no thang. That’s an easy thing to overlook. I stared at it for about a minute before it hit me.
.com edy at it’s finest 🙂
For the record, just got a 400 Bad Request “ngnx” while refreshing page.
Using FF for Mac, vers. 3.6.12, at approximately 7:28 EST. Was not trying to comment, adore, manipulate a sock for commenting, or change anything else. In light all of the recent reports, this is my first time needing to clear cache in probably at least a couple of weeks.
Grrr. I thought I might have fixed it today …
On a good note, I can actually see that error message in the error logs, so maybe we’re getting somewhere.
So do they believe you now?
I’ve sent my service provider an email, because there’s a big difference between “seeing the error message in the logs” and “knowing what the error message means, and what to do about it.”
In order to see the reasons for 400 errors in the logs you(r service provider) need to change the logging level.
error_log /path/to/log info;
In order to fix that particular 400 error nginx needs a tweak.
large_client_header_buffers 8 8k;
I’ve sent them a link that says exactly that; we’ll see what they say.
My blog and website are hosted on a server that belongs to some very good friends of mine.
I helped them set it up and to troubleshoot issues when they come up, so I have root access to the box. It’s pretty handy 🙂
If you can’t get satisfaction from your current host I know my friends would love the business.
So many possibilities, I hardly know where to start…
1. Hammy’s handy with his root
2. Careful, Llamanun (BBUY), if you move your site to Hammy’s friends, he’ll have root in your box next!
Once again, snarky from the other side of the world and everyone else is asleep…
I feel sorry for those poor naked parrots. It’s getting cold outside.
Lola, my dear, I am putting significant impurities in your Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Floresta Amazônica!
Are they flask-based impurities, or do they mean I need the flask after?
Ow! Well that wasn’t too bad. Thanks, Windrose!