The Holy Grail Press
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Word of the Every So Often
chicken sexer: (noun) Nope. We’re not talking about having sex with a chicken (see: pervert). We’re talking about people whose job is to determine the sex of newly hatched chickens, which saves a lot of money in the poultry industry, because they feed chickens that are going to lay eggs differently than those that are only going to be eaten. Chicken sexing is a definite skill. Apparently, you can tell by looking at a chick’s vent (its cloaca), though I’ll be darned if I know how. But, yeah, I bet that wasn’t a job your high school councilor told you about.
The Almost Daily
It’s International Day of Plant Health – not just houseplants (that would be January 10), but plants everywhere. This isn’t just a silly holiday that somebody with nothing better to do made up. It was a whole lot of people with nothing better to do, the United Nations. 2020 was the International Year of the Plant, and why stop there? They decided to do it every year, but not for the entire year, just on today. The whole point with recognizing plants is to realize that without them we’re pretty much screwed. Take the Irish Potato Famine, also known as the Great Famine, or the Great Hunger, which was from 1845 to 1852. The potato is native to Peru, and was introduced to Europe by the Conquistadors in the 16th century, eventually finding its way to Ireland. Potatoes are quite nutritious, and relatively easy to grow, but no crop really should be grown as your only food source. That’s just a really bad idea. Because if that food source fails, say, because of a blight… yeah. It is estimated that over a million people died because of the famine, and perhaps twice that many emigrated to the United States. And never mind that those in power could’ve fed all those starving people but chose not to. Bless them. Could it happen again? Maybe. Which is a really good reason to celebrate healthy plants. And to question your elected politicians.
Cartoon of the Week
Bear With Me
Stuff
One Fine Day in the Mid-Nineteenth Century
Deep in the Woods of British Columbia
– a very short play –
Setting: A clearing in the woods.
At curtain the clearing is empty, but filled with the sounds of birds.
Enter Left Sir Richard along with his trusty companion, Peter, pushing their way out of the undergrowth. They cross to Center.
Sir Richard: (excitedly pointing up into a tree) There! There! Mark it down, my good man. A new species of bird! I think I'll call it a Tit.
Peter: And a fine name it is, Sir Richard. But what kind of tit?
Sir Richard: And right you are, Peter. Bloody well done. As you know, there can be lots of different kinds of tits. And it is our duty to see them all!
Peter: Indeed, but what shall we name this one?
Sir Richard: It was in the bush, so I say it's a Bushtit.
Peter: Brilliant!
Sir Richard: Now doesn't that just make you giggle? Like the Dickcissel. Now there's a silly name. After all, it's not a truly good name if it's not just a tad bit silly, too, now, is it? Now let's be off, and if we're really lucky, we'll find a pecker or two before nightfall. And maybe even a cock! And tomorrow... boobies!
Exit Right Sir Richard and Peter into the undergrowth.
Curtain.
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