We like to throw around the word “song” to describe the vocalizations of some animals, but this is something of a misnomer. You call that a song, bird? I see what you’re doing over there on that tree. You’re merely chirruping the same six notes over and over, just like you do every morning. Meanwhile, whales might be magnificent creatures, but their songs are nothing but the toneless bellowing of a retarded child. All they want is to be heard for thousands of miles, with no concern for melody or pitch control. I really don’t think whales are trying to be musicians, either, so we mustn’t burden them with that title. We have to admit that they just enjoy being a nuisance to everybody else in the ocean.

5 thoughts on “Birdsong

  1. Oh good, you’re back. I am sorry to say that I forgot about you until I Googled myself this morning and the only thing that was the real me was an email you posted that I sent you in 2004. Have you had a pleasant 3 years? I surely have.

  2. Actually, that’s part of my advertising strategy, to crowbar names of my readers into every update, just in case they are narcissistic enough to Google themselves. Even people who don’t read my website, I don’t care: I just upload their names and patiently await their arrival. How’s it going, Jason Graymore of Ashford, CT? Did you find anyone else talking about you on the internet? You’re so nosey, Jason. You remind me so much of Margaret Britowski of Cranton, Ill.

  3. I was having a conversation with someone about how much you can find out about people if you just have a little info on them, so I thought I’d see if I could dig up anything scary on myself. All I got was this site and an inexplicable scanned .jpg of the VAN page (well, one of the hundreds of VAN pages — this is West Michigan) in a 1998 phone book.

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