There is nothing a human can wear and no pose a human can strike to look so regal as a hawk high on a perch. When I see them up on the tall street lights beside the highway, I know what they are thinking. They look down at the economy cars and motorcycles and SUVs and tractor-trailers rumbling by below them and they think to themselves, "I could catch and eat one of those if I wanted to." The sit up there, fighting the urge to demonstrate to these loud, stinky animals their place in the food chain. "I have the high ground," they think. "You're lucky I'm not that hungry."
You know who the hawks and falcons and eagles really hate? David Blaine. He's always perching up on top of things and looking down. Who the hell does he think he is? One of these days the newspaper headline is going to read, "David Blaine Attacked And Killed By Bald Eagles." Of course, this will only increase his mystique. Bastard.
Somewhere in the world a madman is teaching the birds kung fu. Our mastery of the Earth will soon be challenged. It will come at us when we least expect it, the revolution. Why does he do it, the madman? Because, he's mad. What else could he do? It will be awful. It will be like a Kurosawa remake of Hitchcock. We stand no chance. They've got the high ground.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
P. S. - Aphter: 52. Thanks for stopping by.
