The Nature. Of Nature. And the Natural Order. Of Nature.

Today we will enjoy a lesson in Biological Science.

Note: Please do not be discouraged by the intellectual level of this post. It will contain words and pictures, for the visual learner.

It is a well-documented fact that Nature is clever. By it's very nature, yes. One might even say that it is the nature of Nature to be clever, yes.

Note: If I have already lost you, dear reader, with this high-level analysis of the nature of Nature, please do not fret. Pictures appear shortly.

For example, Nature provides disguises for its weaker vessels. Little duckies (the technical term is 'duckling') are born with fuzz that makes them appear puffier and larger and even more delicious.

Note: Poor example.

For example, baby deer (the technical term is 'fawn') have spots for five months or so, which appear to be splotches of dappled sunlight to predators, thus ensuring the safety of the wobbly little creature. Unfortunately, those same spots and dappled sunlight may be misconstrued by automobile drivers as, well, dappled sunlight, thus causing a potentially unfortunate incident.

Note: Maybe another poor example.

Imagine, then, my surprise and utter delight to see the nature of Nature right here in my own backyard!

Our local hills are dotted with wild turkeys (the technical term is 'idiots') who parade around and fluff and occasionally suffer whacks to the head by errant golf balls, from which they recover quite nicely, thank you, on account of the fact that their brains are the size of a pea. The turkeys, however, are quite large and have no predators running wild around here, unless you count my neighbor Larry who likes to pop them with an air gun, now and again.

Exhibit l: The Wild Turkey

Because it is the nature of Nature to protect the weak, I have witnessed the actual evolution of a weak species seeking safety to become a dead-ringer for the Wild Turkey, with no known predators, aside from Larry, who incidentally, is a darned good shot.

Exhibit 2: The Butterfly, in Her Wild Turkey Get-Up

Because it is the nature of Nature to protect the weak, I am pleased to provide yet another example of the evolutionary process at work, right here, under our very noses.

Exhibit 3: The Domestic Turkey

Heck, yes!

I Can See You, Dude. Your Car Does Not Make You Invisible.

If you are driving on 580 between Richmond and Berkeley and a big nasty bug just splattered on your windshield, I have bad news. I just saw a dude in a black jetta pick his nose and roll his nasty booger into a neat little catapault, apparently, before launching it out of his sunroof.

Sexy.

Yup.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad, Paddy. Or Paddington, if you prefer the more formal approach.

Location:Eastshore Fwy,Emeryville,United States

Trophy Wife 101.

This single post may make my blog obsolete.

Note: But publishing this post is a risk that I must take, yes.

This one eensy post may reveal all the information that my Followers truly need in order to achieve Trophy Wife Status. This startling revelation may result in a decline in my readership,

but, dear Followers, I will bite the bullet, yes. I will now reveal the secret.

Note: I love the term 'Followers'. It makes me think of either those motley-looking kids trailing behind the Pied Piper or maybe a Mama Duck crossing the street trailing her ugly ducklings (no offense to my actual ducklings/offspring) or the believers of some freaky religious cult that pulls out their eyebrow hairs and drinks rabbit urine.

Yes.

So, back to business. The secret:

Note: No, the secret is not the acquisition of a husband, although hot diggity, that's one fine-looking Husband and no, the secret is not the acquisition of a baby, although hot diggity, that's one fine-looking baby.

Look at the eyes of the Hub. Look at the smile. The genuine joy on his face. The delight of holding his Grand Boy.

That's it, folks. That's all you need to be a Trophy Wife, or perhaps in this case, a Trophy Husband or maybe a Trophy Dude or a perhaps a Trophy Individual.

And that's the secret.

Love. Love of family. Love of friends. Love of pets. Love of God. And recognizing it. And cherishing it.

Trite, yes. True, yes.

Note: Although I have revealed the secret, be sure that I have lots more to say in my blog. About stuff. All kind of interesting stuff. So keep lurking! And keep reading!

Heck, yes!

Wear. The. Bliss.

Ah, yes. Souvenirs. And the amazingly well-written pamphlets which accompany them.

Note: I am joking about the well-written part. Amazing, yes.

On our girls' trip, Daughter and I are browsing. For souvenirs. Because we are on a pier, many souvenirs are ocean-oriented. Such as dead starfish and dead sea urchins and dead clams, poached in some marinade, probably a mixture of formaldehyde and tobasco sauce, waiting to be opened to reveal a pearl. A magical, fortune-telling pearl.

We are enamored with the pamphlet, which reads in part, and I am not kidding because I may be clever, yes, but I cannot possibly make up this kind of stuff:

"Don't you want the pure pearl to witness your pure love?

Don't you want to start a legend and romantic love?

Why are you hesitating for

At present, the magic pearl has been sealed in a pot. It becomes a modern gift with a new appearance, presenting before you, not only a fortunate will be given to you, but also is a trend of fashion."

Note: Huh?

Daughter follows the exceedingly clear instructions and is wearing a Love Pearl 'which till now, we almost have found the two same Love Pearl.'

Note: Huh?

Anyway, look for a Love Pearl at a gift shop near you, 'the new annotation of the Classical Romanticism.'

Note: Huh?

'Wear the Bliss.'

Heck, yes!

He. Is.Here.

A little piece of heaven fell today.

And landed in my heart.

If I Were a Rich Man. Or Just a Man. In General.

I would be this one.

Note: You will know which one. Trust me. It's worth the click. Thirty seconds of your life. That's less than the amount of time you spend at a stoplight!

Bring it on!

Heck, yes!

Public. Service. Announcement.

It has come to my attention that some folks need a little in-depth instruction regarding driving. Perhaps you have encountered these same knuckleheads. Or maybe you are that knucklehead. As a public service, may I provide the following important information. Remember, the life you save may be your own, especially if you are a knucklehead.

Let us begin with a simple reminder: READ THE SIGNS

For example, the word STOP can be loosely translated to mean "STOP, you stupid IDIOT!" The word STOP does not mean "STOP if you feel like it" or "STOP only if the oncoming car is bigger than yours."

Let us move on and consider the "NO U-Turn Sign". It means, loosely translated, "What part of NO-U Turn do you not understand, you stupid IDIOT!" and not, for example, "NO-U Turn unless you are CLEARLY more special than other drivers, which is probably evidenced by the HUGE truck you are driving that if you are not careful, will knock down the utility pole you are GOING TO HIT if you attempt a U-Turn in that annoying vehicle."

Then there is the YIELD sign. When a sign says YIELD, then one YIELDS. To everything. To everyone. The YIELD sign means, loosely translated, "To give up the contest; to submit; to surrender; to succumb, you stupid IDIOT!"

Thank you for your attention.

You knucklehead.

Heck, yes!