Thursday, May 7, 2009
Don't Click It
The website of the Spanish Embassy in Chicago has disabled right clicking. This seems quite suitable to me, but unfortunately the technology has already been copyrighted. Also, you can't use your mouse cursor if you're facing south-southwest.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Pigeon Attack!
There was a pigeon in the metro tonight. Terrified, it banged its head hard against the ceiling as it flapped wildly through the station. It rounded the corner as I was exiting the train, giving me little time to ponder the situation, and as it flew past me all I could do was dodge to one side as I felt the feathers tickle my left cheek. Other metro-goers reacted in similar manners. I heard some laughter and I laughed as well as the bird continued deeper into the station.
However, as I reached the top of the first of two sets of stairs, I considered that maybe laughing had been inappropriate, and that the true gentleman would not have dodged to one side, but rather caught the bird by its feet and neck (so as not to be pecked) and transported the poor creature back outside. After all, in its crazed state it easily could have descended into a baby's carriage, or worse, into the conductor's car, where he might have lost control and caused mass chaos and destruction.
My smile faded and I realized that no one else was smiling either. That is, the people whose faces I could see weren't smiling. I was walking forward, as I tend to do in the metro, and the best I could do without risking seeming too overeager was to glance at the person beside me, a woman in her twenties who had dodged left instead of right when the bird came down.
Immediately I suspected that she had realized the right thing to do to with the pigeon all along. She had probably been waiting for me to do the logical thing and snatch the beast out of the air and set it free, or in the least to recognize the potential gravity of the situation and therefore to know to keep my crass sense of humor to myself. Had anyone else really laughed or had my Jerry Springer-influenced mind just imagined that?
I began to feel better by telling myself that it had been my knowledge of avian-borne diseases that had caused me to duck in fear, but the lie wouldn't stick. The first reaction had been the natural reaction, and although instinctual, it left me feeling particularly mortal and unromantic.
However, as I reached the top of the first of two sets of stairs, I considered that maybe laughing had been inappropriate, and that the true gentleman would not have dodged to one side, but rather caught the bird by its feet and neck (so as not to be pecked) and transported the poor creature back outside. After all, in its crazed state it easily could have descended into a baby's carriage, or worse, into the conductor's car, where he might have lost control and caused mass chaos and destruction.
My smile faded and I realized that no one else was smiling either. That is, the people whose faces I could see weren't smiling. I was walking forward, as I tend to do in the metro, and the best I could do without risking seeming too overeager was to glance at the person beside me, a woman in her twenties who had dodged left instead of right when the bird came down.
Immediately I suspected that she had realized the right thing to do to with the pigeon all along. She had probably been waiting for me to do the logical thing and snatch the beast out of the air and set it free, or in the least to recognize the potential gravity of the situation and therefore to know to keep my crass sense of humor to myself. Had anyone else really laughed or had my Jerry Springer-influenced mind just imagined that?
I began to feel better by telling myself that it had been my knowledge of avian-borne diseases that had caused me to duck in fear, but the lie wouldn't stick. The first reaction had been the natural reaction, and although instinctual, it left me feeling particularly mortal and unromantic.
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