sex with a hole

I do a lot research on Wikipedia – research in my case meaning that I read up on something random until I get bored, type something equally random into the Search bar and then repeat the first two steps about 270 additional times. There’s a distinctly fascinating aspect to spending 45 minutes reading hundreds upon hundreds of words about an array of subjects but, in the end, gaining absolutely zero advantageous bits of knowledge that could ever be applied to any real world situations. It’s kind of like having sex with a hole in your garage wall. Do it if it feels good, but don’t expect anything good to come of it.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up getting interested in falconry. The Wikipedia Fates led me down a long and winding road: It began with “Super Mario Bros. 3®,” then flowed pretty logically into “poisonous mushrooms” and “violent hallucinations,” but then took a weird turn to “fancy wigs,” and then, somehow, an even weirder turn towards “birds of prey” which pretty much dropped me square in the lap of “falconry” a few minutes later. Needless to say, I had been drinking a lot that night.

So, as it turns out, falconry (or “hawking” as certain lames refer to it) is an ancient form of sport hunting in which a falconer (or a “hawker” if you belong to said group of lames) raises a raptor (not to be confused with the equally cool but super-extinct Velociraptor) for speed, ferocity and, above all, a wicked sense of obedience towards its master. Falconers use raptors to hunt small game like squirrels, leprechauns and baby humans, all the way up to medium-size animals such as foxes, dwarves and teenagers. Followers of the sport primarily utilize falcons, hawks and eagles, but buzzards and owls can also be trained if you’re into using crappy birds that nobody else respects or cares about.

I wouldn’t be using my bird for hunting, though. I’m firmly against the hunting of game, unless it involves my local Best Buy® and ends with me getting something new for my Xbox®. Rather, I’d use the bird for tasks that are beneath me, like shaking me off after I’m done taking a pisser or attending jury duty and always voting “guilty” regardless of the evidence. I mean, if I want squirrel meat, I can go to the flea market. I don’t need an expensive hunting bird for that. It’s my laziness that needs assistance.