Pigeons

The other day I was marveling at how FAT the pigeons in Bryant Park in the middle of Manhattan were - these didn't look like any birds I knew, they looked like oven-roasters standing on toothpicks. Jesus christ, I could almost hear one of them "Morty, Morty, hold up, hold...just....lemme sit here for a spell...oh, god..." his tiny little legs trembling beneath him as he re-launched into dining on the sidewalk smorgasbord. Then this morning walking to the train I noticed all the birds on my own block are about 1/2 the size. "Are these pigeons trying to be hipsters?" I wondered. Mainly, I thought maybe I should tell them what they're missing across the East River, maybe hip them to a better spread. But then I thought well, wouldn't that ruin things for the birds in Bryant Park, now their turf is gettin cut into? And would I actually be doing the birds on my block a favor, basically opening the door for them to obesity/heart disease et al?

I finally decided that what they don't know won't hurt 'em, plus they couldn't understand me anyways as they don't speak English. Kept my mouth shut, kept walking to the train.