Wednesday, 6 September 2006

Poisoning pigeons in the park

As you guys must have noticed I'm well into Buddhism. I'm cultivating the power of now, transforming negative thoughts into light, not feeding my passions (not necessary but celibate for a while now), avoiding meat, working on my aggressive behaviour and refraining from killing, which is quite hard considering the amount of huge hairy spiders strolling around my house.

I'm reading The Tibetan Book of the Dead, but reading the mantras in a western way can be quite hilarious, so I often start laughing, which is not very respectful, is it? I also laugh out loud when I read the description of the Peaceful and Wrathful Deities in the Great Liberation by Hearing. 3 heads, one is blue, the middle one is burning dark yellow and the 3rd one is red, six arms, one holding a skull cup, the next one holding an axe, and so forth... hahaha. That's the type of image our minds produce when we die, apparently.

But you know, it's tricky to be Buddhist. I went to a Buddhist centre near Soho Square, just to see if they could help me in any way. They could. I bought a nice Nag Champa soap, flicked through a few good books, talked to the smiley lady behind the counter, went downstairs to get some tasty Veggie food and sat down at Soho Square to eat my lunch.

As I opened my lunch box, feeling so fulfilled, so happy to be, so so Zen, a flock of filthy pigeons flew my way avid for a bit of my food. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh, filthy flying rats! Get tha fuck out of here, you nasty creatures! My Buddhism is gone. Just like that. Machine guns, poison sprays, a big crane, Marshmallow Man tap dancing. I thought of a thousand different ways of killing them all, and killing quickly, right there by the peaceful Buddhist centre.

They got the message and flew away, covering the real Buddhist sitting 5 benches away. She didn't mind it at all and shared her food with those things, smiling at them as if they were babies. Fucking nutter, I thought. They carry deadly diseases, they stink, they... they... They should be dead!!!! Ok, I'm not 100% Buddhist then. Maybe I'll be born a fucking pigeon in my next life, but I did my part. I didn't act on my emotion. I didn't kill any pigeon, so it's fine. But I must be going backwards in my spiritual journey cos I remember clearly I used to like pigeons when I was a little girl. I used to feed them and everything. In fact every child likes pigeons, just cos they don't have the slightest idea of the nasty things they do. Oh, the age of innocence...

But still, I have to do something about my rage, so I thought of singing this lovely tune with you guys. It's harmless. Let's sing along! Let's sing for democracy! Let's sing for the rights of the unborn pigeons! Let's sing Poisoning Pigeons in the Park by Tom Lehrer! For those who never heard this before, please click on the link and follow the lyrics bellow.

Spring is here, a-suh-puh-ring is here.
Life is skittles and life is beer.
I think the loveliest time of the year is the spring.
I do, don't you? 'Course you do.
But there's one thing that makes spring complete for me,
And makes every Sunday a treat for me.

All the world seems in tune
On a spring afternoon,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.
Every Sunday you'll see
My sweetheart and me,
As we poison the pigeons in the park.

When they see us coming, the birdies all try an' hide,
But they still go for peanuts when coated with cyanide.
The sun's shining bright,
Everything seems all right,
When we're poisoning pigeons in the park.


We've gained notoriety,
And caused much anxiety
In the Audubon Society
With our games.
They call it impiety,
And lack of propriety,
And quite a variety
Of unpleasant names.
But it's not against any religion
To want to dispose of a pigeon.

So if Sunday you're free,
Why don't you come with me,
And we'll poison the pigeons in the park.
And maybe we'll do
In a squirrel or two,
While we're poisoning pigeons in the park.

We'll murder them all amid laughter and merriment.
Except for the few we take home to experiment.
My pulse will be quickenin'
With each drop of strychnine
We feed to a pigeon.
It just takes a smidgin!
To poison a pigeon in the park.


Indigobusiness said...

My pulse will be quickenin'
With each drop of strychnine...

Hahaaaaa. I can hear the crunch and the snap, crackle, pop of karmic debt recalculating. Hoho....wicked funny.

Pigeons are the anchor that keeps those very few like you from floating away from the planet.

bwaHhhhahahaha... Very good, Paula.

Blog ho said...

i love meat, though. that's the sad thing.

A-hole! said...

gawddamnit that was fucking hilarious! so you're a semi-buddhist then? i respect that. good luck. but i've got this funny feeling you'll be back killing pigeons and squashing spiders in not time.

i could be wrong.

Paulette said...

I absolutely adore bloody meat! I could eat half a kilo in the morning, a medium steak at luch time, and loads of fish with white wine sauce in the evening... I used to, back in Brasil, a place where the cows live in imense green fields and sunbathe throughout the year. I bet they don't mind being eaten after that sort of life. I wouldn't mind being eaten after years of sunbathing and eating fresh food. but here in england is different. They live in miserable places and they eat themselves, so I'll eat them once in a while. Word.

The Grooveblaster said...

Love it.

I.:.S.:. said...

"it's not against any religion, to want to dispose of a pigeon..."

twit said...

Nuke London. Pigeons & all.

Good day to you.


twit said...

Sorry for my last comment. I was being deliberately crass 'cause I was hungover & messy. I'd spent most of the previous day playing pool with a bunch of degenerates, while suppin' Newcastle Brown Ale like there was no tomorrow.

But there was, & it hurt.

Abuse of other creatures irks me (apparently even when it's a joke if I'm feeling rough), so I thought I'd toss a little nastiness back. Cheap really.

Blowing stuff up just isn't the rib-tickling notion it used to be.


Paulette said...

Ooooohhh, regrets, Mr Twit!? hehe
That's fine. Nuke London and everything else!
I didn't really noticed you were being crass in that way. It suited the post so well I thought you were in that vibe with me. I was wrong.

And I can't believe you believed me! :-)

twit said...

I didn't.

& I'm too far into denial to face my regrets.


I.:.S.:. said...

Nuke London but not until Christmas.

Indigobusiness said...

Twit is far better with three part solutions, anyhow.

dean said...

nice post! great blog! if you meet buddha on the road, kill him!

that reminds me...

Indigobusiness said...

Dean Whitbread- Renaissance man, extraordinaire...I figure. Top-shelf sense of humor.

But that is one of the most glib and misunderstood quotes about Buddhism.

Paulette said...

I don't know who tha fuck he is and I surely misunderstood the message cos I would erase it if it wasn't for you comment right after, Indigo.

Dean, you don't know what I mean.

Indigobusiness said...

"If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him!" just means: those you encounter, who try to pass themselves of as fully realized enlightened masters -you can be certain they aren't.

Please have a look at Dean's work, he is really remarkable.

Here's some (I particularly like 'speedweed' and 'be true'). Hilarious stuff!

I like his music, too (from what little I've heard).

(click his pic, in the lower right, to get to the page)

Paulette said...

I went to his page, honey bunny. Intersting poetry. I just think when writing a sentence like that without proper reference you have a great chance to face misunderstanings. Maybe he thought we were so great he didn't need to explain. Thanks Dean, but you do need to explain in this case. Surely most of those who think themselves too wise aren't.

To apologize for my premature judgement I will post here my favourite poem by Mr. Dean

Cool Dude

Another cool dude
Wears shades on the tube
Designer face impassive
He's the incognito massive

Crisp and casual
Cool and yet refined
He's not the sort of guy
To shout "REWIND!"

His eyes are two dark
Question marks
His poker-faced guess
Shop window dress

Top lip and chin
Cut sharp, a jewel
Neat razor trim
But he sees fuck all..

Indigobusiness said...

What about the videos?

The saying in question is also about the sort of humility it takes to know Buddhamind.

Indigobusiness said...

He's just a crytic kind of guy, Paula. He seems like a good sort, and a good source of the unexpected.

Good poem.

Paulette said...

Indigo, you posted one of his videos on your myspace. 'meber?

Crytic? Or cryptic?

Indigobusiness said...

Cryptic, sorry, I don't really know what crytic means.

I posted two of them there, but there are more. 'Speedweed' is a gas, and the one called 'balance' I just put on my blog (yesterday, I think?...time has lost all meaning for me).

I've taken to watching mermaid movies.

Indigobusiness said...

'meber? Or 'member?

Indigobusiness said...

Sorry. I couldn't resist. I tried.

Paulette said...

Oh, Indigo, I love it when you correct me!

And I really thought crytic was some cryptic word.

Indigobusiness said...

Could be, Paula. How would I know? I'm from Texas, where most words are confined to four letters, or less.

Lots of yep, nope, and assorted grunts of ambiguous significance -around here.

I often butcher the language in vexing ways.

Happyotter said...

In the U.S town of Huntington, Indiana
the folk there still practice the quaint tradition of "The Pigeon Kill"...The yearly culling by poisoned corn of tens of thousands of pigeons..
They make a festival of it...

And Hey, Indigo, flirtyboy -she's too much woman for you, pal.

Indigobusiness said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Indigobusiness said...

Hey Otterpunk- What would you know about it, or anyfuckingthing else, for that matter?

You think if people aren't cutting each other up, they must be flirting. You pathetic shwag of a human, have you ever had a real friend?

Do us all a favor, Otterboy, eat more poisoned corn. Make a festival of it.

happyotter said...

Oh the joy you bring me...
I know a fuckload more than you realise, a fuckload more than you THINK...


Indigobusiness said...

Otter- You don't even know when to keep your fetid mouth shut.

Your joy is not joy, you haven't even figured out that much.

You are a sad, sick, deluded man.

Anonymous said...

Oh well, thats me told isnt it..?


In sick delusion :-)


Indigobusiness said...

fet·id Pronunciation (ftd, ftd) also foe·tid (ftd)
Having an offensive odor.
[Middle English, from Latin ftidus, from ftre, to stink.]
fetid·ly adv.
fetid·ness n.

And there you'll remain.

Anonymous said...

Beers, Steers and Queers.


Indigobusiness said...

I rest my case.

Happy otter said...

What fucking case would that be?

Rest your face.

Paulette said...


Wow, wasn't expecting all this movement down here!!

"You think if people aren't cutting each other up, they must be flirting. [...] have you ever had a real friend?"

haha, well said Inigo.

Otter, take it easy, my dear. would you like a cup of tea?

Happy Otter said...

Two sugars, darling.


happy otter said...

And whats so fucking clever about "have you ever.....?"
Has he ever had a girlfriend outside of the web?
Doubt it, judging by his simpering, ingratiting flirtatiousness.
Probably perusing your site photos now...Left handed ..
Overprivilidged Texan creep..

Catch up Soon.

Happy otter said...

Er, "Ingratiating"..."Overpriviliged"..

Sorry, P...
Must try harder.... You know I went to the kind of school where they asked you ;"What do you want to be IF you get older?"..



Indigobusiness said...

Otter you ignorant fuck.

Get a life. You are beyond disgusting. You foul the landscape.

Sputter on.

OTTER said...

Mate, your'e boring, and I have better things to do than exchange insults with a room temperature I.Q case like yourself who has delusions of adequacy...

Indigobusiness said...

You are a clever bastard, Otter, you've shown just how clever.

Crawl back under your rock.

DB said...

Knowing the Otter beast, I would say that is an unlikely course of action for him to take.

Otter said...

Thanks drillo.
And,btw Ind, Otters dont live under a rock, they live in a "Holt", dolt.