marv - has steve changed as your bird daddy since he has become more religious?
how do his new beliefs affect YOUR life?
First of all, it seems odd to me that the fat human believes in God, in view of the overwhelming evidence that he is descended from monkeys.
Be that as it may, I am in favor of having a religious primate, for a couple of reasons.
Number one, he felt guilty and bought me a bigger and even more palatial cage last week. It is my understanding that guilt is a big part of religion, and I look forward to milking it as hard as possible.
Second, I am excited by the "turn the other cheek" thing, as applied right after I drop a copious deuce in the human's hair.
None of you smelly primates have asked me about this, so I will volunteer an answer anyway. The question: did I like the famous video of Christian the hugging lion? Here it is:
While the video was okay, I must point out that it underscores the difference between lions and parrots. When Christian saw his smelly primates after a couple of years apart, he got all mushy and ran up to them and started hugging and licking them. In similar circumstances, I would also run up to the fat human. However I would do so only to get close enough to poo in his hair. As I have done in the past, many times.
Are we sure Christian refrained from eating the primates because he loved them? Not really. After a day or two in a hot Land Rover, they may have been a little ripe. He may have been put off by the odor.
No bird video this time. You already got to see the lion.
Suze wants to know: "Marv - do you sometimes wish you had more colorful feathers, like, say, a macaw?"
Suze:
That is an excellent question. Frankly, I believe grey is the most distinguished color. My daily garb is basically a bird business suit. Which is one of the reasons I command mad respect.
Nonetheless, I sometimes crave a little more color. So I break one of my dyed toys, throw it in the water dish, and mash my head in the water. I also have a ceramic perch I sometimes use to dye my face pink. You just have to rub it real good.
Readers want to know how I stay so thin and gorgeous. Who can blame them? I think I'll reveal one of my dieting secrets.
One of my favorite snacks is hot air from the blow dryer. First, I alert the fat human to the fact that I want him to spray me with warm water. I do this by diving into my water dish. Then I permit him to blow-dry me for fifteen minutes or so. And while he does this, I chew on the delicious hot air that comes out of the dryer. It tastes wonderful, and it has no calories at all.
I wish the fat human would avail himself of the hot water supply more often; not to drop too broad a hint.
does marv think life might have been easier if he were not such a handsome devil?
mr mollo ponders this some of the time - and wonders if marv would like to share his thoughts.
At first this question may seem insane. But only to homely guys who can't pin the needle on the testosterone Breathalyzer. For guys like me and Mr. Mollo, whose good looks keep us buried in chicks (actual chicks), it's another story.
Being a babe magnet can be tiresome. You get bruises under your feathers, from all the squeezing and caressing. And your bird buddies can't get in touch with you, because your fat human's voicemail is always full of salacious squawks left by lonely hens. And you're always busy, juggling mistresses. It can wear you to an adorable frazzle.
Also, if I didn't have to spend so much time riding herd on my honeys, I would have more hours to devote to my real passion, which is gardening. The fat human placed a couple of tomato plants near my cage, and I enjoy flinging bird seed into the pots to see what comes up. The fat human does not seem to share my enthusiasm. He should be grateful. In the old days, parrot mixes contained a lot of hemp seed, so he might have ended up growing the wacky weed and then been sent to a cage of his very own.
No, Mr. Mollo, it's not easy being a player. But it beats hatching some hen parrot's eggs while she swings on your favorite bird toys.
What do you do with the inexpensive bird cookies? Or does the fat human even bother to get the inexpensive ones?
First I must agree emphatically with your use of the term "fat."
As for inexpensive bird cookies, I am pretty sure there aren't any. The fat human pays like seven bucks for a tiny bag of Nutri-Berries, which are a well-known brand. They taste okay, but where they really shine is ballistics. I can fling one maybe twenty feet, which sends the fat human into hysterics, which, I can only assume, mean he is impressed.
I will now mount the cage and permit my admirers to approach and squeeze my majestic toes.
Someone has asked me whether it is okay to squeeze a bird on the sabbath. Although I am a second-generation Indonesian-American and consider myself a Muslim, I feel totally qualified to answer this question. Infidels.
YES! YES! YES! It is definitely okay to squeeze a bird on the sabbath. For both Jews and Christians. Even if it feels like work. There is NO day when it is not okay, or even not mandatory, to squeeze a bird.
Even better, squeeze a pretty white bird after placing a fat and useless grey bird in a bus station locker and throwing away the key. This is probably the highest form of bird mitzvah. If you are Jewish, you may think you are not allowed to drive to the bus station on the sabbath. However, according to the movie The Big Lebowski, that rule can be bent in a crisis. Such as when you observe a fat and useless grey bird profaning the sanctuary of a cockatoo.
Do not bother checking the Talmud. I am pretty sure we are on solid ground here. Kufrs.
Here is a link to a wonderful story about how South Florida is being improved by immigrants. Of course, the immigrants are parrots. More hairless monkeys would not improve anything, except for the places they left.
Interesting passage:
''And West Palm Beach to Homestead is extensively landscaped with plants from around world, so parrots can find some fruit from their native range,'' Pranty says. ``There are trees in fruit or flower year-round in South Florida, plus there are probably tens of thousands of bird feeders. They'll eat almost anything.''
This is sort of misleading. While it is true that I eat lots of different things, including the buttons from TV remotes, I have certain standards. For example, when the fat human brings home expensive bird cookies from the pet store, I drop them in my water dish and watch them dissolve. He seems to enjoy watching me, because he jumps up and down and hoots and does other excited-monkey behaviors.
I have considered moving out and taking advantage of the local fruits and nuts. But I have been informed that in the real world, no one puts your food in a bowl and brings it to you. Unacceptable. In fact, I am not even sure where bowls come from, in nature. I have looked out the window a lot, and I have never seen a bowl tree.
I encourage the outmoded white bird to leave and explore the great outdoors, but he says he is not going anywhere where he can't count on continuous bird-squeezing. If he doesn't take the hint, I am going to offer him to a Chinese restaurant.
If I ended up at a police station, I would not waste my time trying to get back to the fat human. Because I know what they have at police stations. Doughnuts. I would say cute things about doughnuts until I was so stuffed I had to be rolled into a cell.
By the way, those cells are another good reason not to go home. They're the biggest cages around, and you can walk right out through the bars whenever you want.
Here is a bird who could be useful in a jailbreak:
I would like to announce that I am once again being persecuted. Not only have I not been squeezed since last night, but I am receiving dirty looks because of my efficiency in utterly wiping out an $11 bird toy I received yesterday afternoon.
THIS AGGRESSION WILL NOT STAND.
I cite Article 3 of the Cockatoo Code, which states, "A cockatoo must destroy all wooden objects at the earliest opportunity, except while being squeezed. And if at all possible, even then."
I AM NOW A POLITICAL PRISONER.
I demand a visit from the Red Cross and a fresh bird toy.
So do you support John McCain's Open Cages Migration Reform Initiative?
Who is this McCain person? What relevance does he have to my sublime and near-divine existence? Is he involved in any way with the production or distribution of peanuts? If not, I see no reason to acknowledge him.
As for immigration reform, I am a hundred percent in favor. As noted in earlier posts, I keep trying to assist a local cockatoo in migrating to the landfill. One good piece of reform would be to grant me authority to issue a deportation order, to be carried out by the nearest fat human of general cockatoo jurisdiction.
I would also support amnesty for all aliens involved in picking fruit which I later eat or fling at the wall.
Here is a video of a bird who needs fashion help.
Here is the same bird after being properly spoiled for a while.
I have received a very long question, which I read over a period of several hours, pausing occasionally to fling food out of my cage and make rude noises at the fat human.
dear marv--
mr mollo (molotov cockatiel, formal name) used to be THE sweetest birdie in the world. loved to be rubbed and squeezed, would give kisses on command, etc., etc.
some time ago, however, he adopted a small white wastepaper basket in the bathroom as his "home away from home." his dad would line it with soft kleenex, both so he would have a cushy spot to reside, and also so he could shred it to pieces whenever he got bored.
life was fine - except mollo became incredibly territorial with his can. first - if we tried to get him out, he would growl and then bite us. then, even if we didn't go after him, but just walked into the bathroom, he'd fly out, enraged that we might be attempting to take him out of his can.
once he settles down after removing himself from the beloved can, he returns to his affable, lovable self. until that happens, however, There Will Be Blood.
any suggestions as to how to deal with this birdie Dr. Jeykll Mr. Hyde?
i realize that this question is long. but - due to the critical nature of all the data, i'm sure you understand, marv. do feel free to edit as you see fit with your exalted wisdom and deep intelligence.
sincerely,
mollo's mommy.
Okay, first of all, you are using the wrong receptacle. As we all know, the garbage can is the natural habitat of the obsolete citron-crested cockatoo, cacatua sulphurea citrinocristata. Wow, did typing that make my feet hurt.
For years I have been active in trying to get a local specimen known as "Maynard" relocated to its proper domicile so it may finally participate in the seasonal and permanent migration to the landfill.
Second, let me point out your howling error in buying the wrong bird to begin with. All birds other than the African grey--nature's ultimate purpose and crowning achievement--are the wrong bird. Except for takeout chicken or Thanksgiving turkey, obtained for the purpose of feeding an African grey. In fact, if you do not have an African grey around, Thanksgiving is kind of hypocritical.
Even though cockatiels like are not cockatoos, it seems to me that they are equally useless, and I suspect that Mr. Mollo would fit in real good with the many discarded cockatoos currently inhabiting your local dumpster. I suggest you place the can by the curb and start shopping for an African grey to serve for the rest of your otherwise worthless primate existence.
After placing him on the trash heap, you may reward yourself with a nice banana. If you come get Maynard as well, I will go so far as to authorize a second banana and one shiny object.
Mr. Mollo's behavior is clearly insane, unlike the way I behave when my food and water are changed in the morning, lunging through the air, attaching my beak to the fat human's arm, and hanging thereby while doing a fearful vocal imitation of an angry jaguar. Being insane, he should get along quite well with all forms of cockatoo.
Thank you for your question, even though it was not that great. I guess it was okay for something a human wrote with its grimy banana-smelling paws. Here is a video.
Since the hairless monkeys have been too awed of my wisdom to ask a question, I will tell everybody about an article I read.
While making good use of an issue of The New Yorker magazine, I read all about an African grey parrot named Alex. He lived with a weird lady who asked him dumb questions all the time, trying to find out whether parrots think. The lady who wrote the article seemed to think Alex was able to think, because he gave the right answers so many times. But the thing that disturbed me about the article was that it suggested that hairless monkeys ALSO think. Which was something that had never occurred to me before.
I have taught my fat human to bring me goodies and rub my glorious fat on command, but I always figured these were simple reflex actions. If he can think, maybe he has feelings, and if so, it may be wrong to poop in his hair and bite him for sport.
Not that this would alter my conduct in the slightest.
Parrots are very much aware of the concepts of right and wrong. However we have concluded that they are of little practical use.
I have spoken. Or at least squawked. You may now bring me cookies.
Today I decided to plunge headlong off the shiatsu recliner into a pile of computer wiring, from which I had to be extracted by my overweight human servant. And when he removed me, he informed me that my life was "a constant hootenanny."
Is this a good thing?
And now a stupid parrot that can't even imitate a burp.
Reader Richard McEnroe asks the pretty white bird who has not been squeezed yet today:
Maynard -- are cuttlefish bones haram?
And you know, if you went Mormon, you could have all the cockatettes you wanted.
This is a very good question. Although I am an Indonesian-American and come from a Muslim background and support the tradition of chewing up furniture belonging to infidels, I am afraid I must admit that I am not overly familiar with the contents of the Koran, as I ate my copy. For what it's worth, it tasted very similar to junk mail from Pat Robertson.
YOU MAY NOW SQUEEZE AND CARESS AND LOVE THE COCKATOO.
Here is a video of a cockatoo who is being treated properly:
It is now 10:56 p.m., and the cockatoo has been squeezed. The situation is satisfactory. However it will not remain so unless squeezing resumes by 11:05.
Answer me this - why can't we all just get along - you know, Cockatoos and African grays - just hold...er....wings or something - and just get along.....
Clearly, Suze, we could get along. If the obsolete cockatoo would simply agree to shuffle out to the trash cans and wait for his ride. Under those circumstances I would recognize his right to exist. However he continues to take up room in my home and breathe my precious oxygen. Therefore to him I say "JIHAD!" And I poop in his general direction.
I have an important announcement to make. I am in love.
I met the most wonderful girl while throwing things off the fat human's end table. She has stunning grey and black coloring, one bright red eye, and two AA batteries. She is a mouse. Her name is Logitech. Is that the most beautiful name you ever heard? Except for "Marv"?
Of course it is.
She is pretty coy, so at this point we are still just flirting. I chase her around and drag her from one end of the table and make special alluring bird romance noises to her. Then I put my head down and wait for her to rub my feathers, but she refuses. I guess she is old-fashioned. I know she wants to do it. Everyone wants to do it.
I can't see any place on her for eggs to come out. But that is not a problem. We can always adopt. Besides, having the fat human around is a lot like raising a slow child.
Truly, she is the apple or even peanut of my eye. Although she is not Apple-compliant.
The obsolete white bird is jealous. He used to have a girlfriend, which was an old blue washcloth. But I think he ate her. Maybe he will find new love when they finally cart him to the dump.
You hairless monkeys have been demanding Marv videos, so I will post an old favorite. Over 140,000 monkeys have viewed it with pleasure.
Dear hairless inconsequential monkeys who adore me,
I am back. I am not sure I will remain, because I might be distracted at any moment by a peanut. But that is your problem, not mine. I am considering opening a whole new site. If I do so, it will be your honor and privilege to go there and ooh and ahh over my brilliant and insufferably cute blog posts.
This has been a wonderful week. The fat human finally got around to buying me a second perch so I could sit higher than the obsolete white bird who still has not been set out for the garbage people.
The marvelous thing about this perch is that it is full of red dye, so I can mash my face against it all day in order to make my cheeks pink. This is a look I like. I am a great admirer of President Reagan, who always had nice pink cheeks.
Here is a photo so you can admire the change. I know makeup may seem inappropriate for a he-man stud like me, but one day I expect to be a media darling, so I have to get used to it.
Stumble It!
