Deeply Thinking Seagulls: Part 4

Thanks to Kristin Speranza for the photo! Happy Thanksgiving, three people who read my blog!




"I'm thankful that the arbitrary needle on the wheel of Man's will landed on 'turkey' instead of 'seagull' when he was planning an annual genocide. Thanks a lot, Man. You fucking hypocrite."

Deeply Thinking Seagulls: Part 3

Once in a while,* I get caught in this cyclical pattern of existential pondering. It vacillates between - at worst - bemusement at the foolish joke us seagulls know as "life," and - at best - a deep reverence for the sensations of interconnectedness that wash over me like so many droplets of the vast ocean I call my home.** And between these inexorable trail ends that mark the path of consciousness for all higher beings, I fill in the gaps with the actions I suppose are expected of me. And I'm becoming increasingly aware that therein lies the evidence supporting a more dismal perspective. To wit: I fly. I eat. I poop. I fly. I eat. I poop. I FLY. I EAT. I POOP. I FLY!!! I EAT!!! I POOP!!!!!

Sometimes I want to kill myself.


*I refer (of course) to a seagull 'while,' not a human 'while,' which is (quite unjustly) five times (or more!) longer on average.
**It's possible I am the only creature to be comforted by his home in such an active manner! ;)

Deeply Thinking Seagulls: Part 2

Enjoy this installment of Deeply Thinking Seagulls from iamledgin guest blogger Justin Shanes...

"How do I say this without sounding self-loathing? Without the other gulls dismissing me as fretful or, worse yet: haughty! But watching these humans, I can’t help but register a feeling of… envy. Pitching and bobbing among the undulating waves… kicking up fat chunks of sand as they frolick along the shore… sharing a kiss above plush striped towels. They all seem so positively happy. And what of me? This is my home. I live and breathe this beach. Why do I not derive the same pleasure from the plangent crash of the waves at low tide? Why do I not giggle at the burrowing crabs?

Don’t get me wrong. I still revel in the sight of a torn garbage bag, the loosed contents offering up delicious morsels of mayo-gobbed tuna fish. Nor am I too proud to enjoy the perfect deployment of fecal matter atop a baby’s head or the bridge of a chattering debutante’s nose. But such moments are the exception. The rule, I’m afraid, is a gray and secular monotony.

Perhaps the answer is simple: you’re jaded, Cecile. Yet there are seagulls here twice – nay, three times – as old as I am, and from them I hear no complaints. So, then, maybe a simpler answer: you’re flawed. Not the universe, not this existence. You. Cecile. Damaged goods. The one that flew over the cuckoo’s nest.

No! I shall not accept that. That’s what society wants me to think. That seagulls are good for ransacking toppled pails and cacophonic squawking and nothing else. Is it hubris to aspire to something more than that? Oh, the cruel irony, that humans view these wings as symbols of freedom. My wings are shackles! That they are adorned with feathers makes it none the less so.

I’ll probably do nothing. Shake off these dark thoughts and live to nosedive for errant bread crust another day. That’s the sad part. That even after admitting this there is no catharsis. This confession has meant nothing. A little girl with sunburned shoulders is spilling Fritos out of an oversized bag. I supposed I should go jockey for a bite…."

Deeply Thinking Seagulls: Part 1

"What is this impenetrable mystery we call 'ocean?'...What secrets does it hide?...I could really go for stale bread crust right now...Is there a God?"

Got Plagiarism?

A little part of my faith in humanity dies every time I see a new bastardization of the "Got Milk?" campaign. Apparently the Milk people were unable to trademark the slogan "Got __?" (since it's basically a question every company needs answered). This legal snafu has resulted in countless dumb billboards (and buttons, bumper stickers, etc.) including "Got Insurance?"(okay) or "Got Tires?" (come on now) or, I shit you not, "Got God?" (STOP). I guess Jesus knows a good deal on a free slogan when he sees one. Even the most absurdly lame rip-offs, however, have not prepared me for what I recently saw in the aisles of Costco. Behold:



This is real. This is fucking real. Someone suggested putting this slogan on a box of...I don't know, neck cream?...and some other EXECUTIVE thought that was a good idea and went with it. Then some wholesale buyer for Costco AGREED and bought like ten million large boxes of them. "Got Turkey Neck?" That's what this says, just to be clear. I wanted to make sure that we were looking at the same thing. Cool.

I am delighted to find out that I can still be surprised by the world. And by "the world," I mean Costco.

I am Ledgin.

Nookie Nookie Nookie Nookie

Can anyone explain to me why I like this? Because it's really upsetting me that I do.



I fear that the answer is "I'm racist." But I really hope not. Maybe it's just that she's so confused about what the funny thing is in this video, and I like that.

I am saying "Nookie" over and over inside my head.

I am Ledgin.

Dog Bites Penis

I mean...do I really need to add anything to that description? Fine, I will. Dog Bites Penis of Small Child. Now watch.

Thanks Internets, for being a window into the lives of people I don't ever want to associate with on an interactive level.

With a responsible owner like this, is it any wonder that this animal has casts on his ears?

I am laughing at a small child's pain and humiliation.

I am not proud of this.

I am Ledgin.