Of Prodigal Birds and Stupid Humans

There's this 'exhibit' in the Jurong Bird Park. I'm convinced that it's some cruel prank by the park.

Called the Talking Birds Section, it consists of a couple of lonely-looking parakeets and other multicoloured cousins, each solitary in their cages. The shack they are housed in, relative to the grand, spick-and-span enclosures in the park is, well, a dilapidated old shack. In front of each cage stands a sign. The names of the birds and the words they apparantly can speak, obscured by a layer of grime, are written on these signs.

Now if I were an ageing bird with creaky limbs and a bad case of ED, living in maddening solitude, I wouldn't be in the mood to talk to anyone other than my own kind. That statement must be pretty accurate because the birds didn't talk at all either. I also doubt they understand the words they were taught to say, but that is redundant because of the first point.

Obviously other people don't understand that, so what they do is call the names of the birds in retarded, croaky, voices in an attempt to get them to talk. It doesn't work. These humans would keep at it for many minutes until they lumber away, cursing the 'stupid birds'. What they don't realise is how idiotic they look while trying to talk to the birds. One has to experience it for himself.

There's a CCTV camera in the vicinity. Imagine the laughs generated for the staff.

These lines, ad-libbed, were well-rehearsed.

Well I haven't memorized all of the cute things to say,
But I'm working on it.
Maybe I'll master this art form someday,
If I quote all the lines off the top of my head.
Would you believe,
That I fully understand all these things I've read.

Im just trying to find my way,
Trying to find my way,
The best that I know how.

In the depths it's real name was forgotten.
Fetal, it's curled up, died, is now rotten.
A thing I've learned is even if you really care,
Some people will hurt you and no-one will raise a hair.

It's a bitch convincing people to like you,
If I stop now you'll all call me a quitter,
If lies were cats you'd be kitty litter.
The Olympic swimmer drowned in the lake.
A man was murdered on his birthday with poisoned birthday cake.

I would say that this has been an unforgettable experience, but then again, a jalapeno up the rectum is an unforgettable experience too. Everything has it's good and bad days I guess. Just like the stock market. Someone once told me that the world revolves around sex, but I disagree.

Instead, I think that the world is one big playground filled with 6-year-old schoolkids. The difference is that these schoolkids have big guns, and nukes, and millions of bucks to boot. Everywhere you go it's just the same similar situation where the big bad bully makes faces at the little kids and sometimes there's this upstart who tries to defy him, and then he gets squashed.

Straining my ears,
Praying for time,
Why the hell did I commit this crime.

Slips of the mouth ain't no felony.
But nevertheless, the guilt hurts on the inside,
Never something you should hide.