One night when I was resting during my trip, I turned to channel 9 and saw a commercial for Miracle on 34th Street coming up next. I hoped it would be the classic 1947 version, but I was sure it wasn’t. That would probably be too expensive for a local station to buy the rights to air. Instead channel 9 showed a version I never knew existed. As I looked at the clothes and hairstyles I guessed it was an early 80s version, but now that I’m checking IMDB I see it’s ten years older.

I don’t want to pull punches here. This 1973 Miracle on 34th Street was dismal remake. Let me start with that stilted and unnatural acting. The 1973 “Mr. Gailey” lacked the urbane charm of the 1947 character. This guy had an indecisive, fish-out-of-water screen presence. I suppose it was fitting that the character was renamed in this version. Instead of Fred Gailey, the name of Karen Walker’s love interest became Bill Schaffner. I guess I should describe him as the one who would eventually defend Kris Kringle in court, but I’m not sure now. If they changed his name maybe they changed his profession as well. I really don’t know because the movie was so bad I didn’t make it to the end.

I suspected bad things during the scene where Karen Walker and Bill were getting acquainted. There wasn’t much chemistry between them, but the real problem was when Bill’s “friend” shows up. In this version of the movie Bill had recently moved to New York and was still getting settled. His friend (whose name I can’t remember, but I think it was Celeste) shows up at his apartment with groceries from the organic market. Then in front of Karen, Celeste proceeds to mark her territory all over Bill. I was just stunned. I don’t want my Christmas movie sullied with this blatant sexual posturing.

Later my fears were confirmed in the scene that introduces Alfred to Kris Kringle. That was the worst acting in any movie ever made. The actor playing Alfred had this zombie-like approach to the character. He sounded like he was reading his lines for the first time. I suspect the actor that was originally cast for the part dropped out suddenly so the director merely gave a script to a janitor in the studio.

As if the bad acting wasn’t enough, the sets were poorly planned and made the movie look cheap. Perhaps this really was a budget problem. This was a TV movie after all. I remember thinking that Bill’s apartment looked nothing like any New York City apartment I’ve seen. Remember the apartment is along the Macy’s parade route so I would think the building has to be pre-war. Yet the interior, even allowing for the interior design of the day, looked like it was a single family home in Anytown, USA. Then the scenes in Macy’s toy department came but you would never know it. I can’t imagine this was actually filmed in Macy’s. The place looked like an office with toys scattered about.

This movie was simply horrible. I didn’t even make it to the halfway point before I quit. I don’t understand why anyone tries to remake classic movies. It only leads to disappointment because they never live up to the original. The network that made this would have done better to pay for a brand new Christmas themed script because anyone who actually tuned in to watch back in 1973 would just have changed the channel when they saw it wasn’t the real Miracle on 34th Street. I know there was also a 1994 remake too, but I’ll never make the mistake of giving that one a chance.

The airports turned out to be just what I feared. Both my flights on the way to NYC were late. This was my first time flying Northwest Airlines and I was not impressed. The jets themselves felt very shabby with their upholstery visibly deteriorating. You could really feel the age on these planes. The leg from San Jose to Minneapolis wasn’t too bad because the middle seat was empty so I had room to spread out. I read my book; nothing eventful to report. The Minneapolis airport was a huge surprise for me. I had no idea it was such a major hub. The place is enormous with its six terminals. It must be a fairly new building too because it has that modern suburban mall feel to it.

The time I spent waiting there wasn’t too bad as far as airports go. There are lots of options for food, although I only ate at Sbarro. Generally I don’t eat when I fly because no one enjoys using the airplane bathroom. A slice and a little soda is enough to tide me over. Besides I certainly was not going to try anything from “Maui Taco”. Who does that appeal to?

The Minneapolis to LaGuardia flight was a mess. It seems that Northwest cancelled two earlier flights and pushed those people on to my flight. I was crushed next to this construction worker with a bulky coat who was sent by his employer to some kind of seminar. I spent almost the whole flight listening to him and this rich woman from Kalispell, Montana talk about fishing and cooking. On the one hand I did find it heartening that two different classes of people could get along so well. However it was still an incredibly boring conversation to listen to.

I made it to LaGuardia about an hour later than I should have. A friend graciously agreed to pick me up and off we went to my mom’s house. Amazingly at past midnight we hit traffic on the BQE and sat still for 15 minutes. I got a chance to see Garmin’s navigation system in action. It was actually pretty impressive. For the first time I was actually tempted to get navigation for my car.

The events of my week you can read elsewhere. When it was time to return to California, my flight was canceled. That was a horrendous day. The news had been hyping the hell out of the coming storm and I was genuinely worried. I got to LaGuardia about three hours early because I didn’t want to get stuck on the road later like those weathermen kept warning. Waiting doesn’t really bother me. I had my book after all. So I read and waited, and for a little bit I considered asking the gate clerk if I could get on the earlier flight to Minneapolis. When they announced the flight was completely full I decided against bothering. Let’s say I could get a seat. We all know it sucks to have someone sitting in the middle seat on a plane, but it sucks more to be in the middle seat on a plane.

Besides I was building myself up with confidence. The snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. LaGuardia was staffed by professionals who have been through worse storms. They should be able to get through this fine. We’ll all board and be on our way. I’m worrying over nothing. This is what I was telling myself as I watched the snow fall. After my internal pep talk, I was stoaked to fly! It was all going so well at first too. I somehow managed to maneuver myself to be one of the first people on board. I got to my seat quickly and got comfortable. I started reading while everyone boarded. Coincidentally the old lady I chatted with while waiting in the gate area was sitting in the same row as me. We were both so pleased that everything appeared to be running smoothly.

It’s amazing how quickly everything can go to hell. Boarding was very nearly over and I started to believe we were in for a comfortable, quiet flight. Just then, this family comes barrelling in at the last moment. Their obnoxious 12 year old son naturally has the middle seat between me and the old lady. The father and one daughter sit behind me and the mother and other daughter sit somewhere else. These people ruined the quiet of our prior adults-only seating, but I still clung to the hope we would leave on time.

Actually though I should tell you the family’s entrance began hilariously. I could see the father of this family bumbling down the aisle with one girl in his arms and a laptop bag that did not want to stay on his back. Then I glanced over at the old lady in the aisle seat next to me looking down and not paying attention. My first instinct was to say, “Watch out!”I stopped myself though because I didn’t think she would immediately understand what I meant and I would look a little nutty. I tried to come up with a succinct way to say ‘watch out for his bag‘ (and actually that would have done nicely) but midway another thought crossed my mind. I should just do nothing and let hilarity play out. So I remained quiet and watched as the heavy laptop bag proceeded to collide with the old lady’s head and produce a delightful *thunk*! I immediately looked away, out the window, and bit my tongue to suppress my laughter. Even now I’m still laughing as I remember that sound. I’m a terrible human being, and I love myself for it.

As you can imagine my departure was not to be, but the ordeal was so much worse. There I sat next to a 12 year old with an interminable series of questions for his father seated behind us. Most of them involved him switching seats so he could sit next to his dad. Oddly enough the two daughters had the same fixation on being near their dad. The third passenger in his row was chased away to make room for his kids. That mother must get no love in their household.

So I sat on that runway for three hours listening to these kids question their dad about when they were leaving, fight among themselves over pencils and just generally be the loud annoyances we all assume kids are. The flight attendants tried to quiet them down, but really it was an impossible task. How do you discipline someone else’s kids without causing a scene?

In all this chaos, what really annoyed me was the reason we didn’t take off. It wasn’t poor visibility or high winds. The problem was the de-icing crew couldn’t de-ice the plane fast enough to take off before the rain would re-freeze. What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t just place the de-icing truck closer to the take off position on the runway. Why not just drive it to the last spot before a plane turns onto the runway, de-ice that plane in the first position, then let it go take off? Is there a reason this couldn’t be done? Isn’t it better to get planes into the air slowly rather than canceling them?

As we taxied back to the gate, me with a pounding headache, I called Northwest’s rebooking hotline and scheduled myself for another Minneapolis flight that night in the hopes the weather would clear up. By the time I got off my first plane and waited in line to see the gate agent to get my new boarding pass, my second flight was cancelled. All the Northwest flights were cancelled. Basically I was screwed. I surrendered my broken spirit to LaGuardia and went to wait in baggage claim. LaGuardia wasn’t done beating me down though as I had to wait 90 minutes before my bag finally came. I stared at the carousel for so long I actually became dizzy.

It was only after I had my bag in hand that I sat down to rebook a flight for the next day, which despite warnings at the gate, was totally easy. I guess the gate agents just wanted to scare people into immediately booking for tomorrow so they would leave the terminal. I left for the relief of a taxi back to my mom’s house, but that was only another line. It stretched the entire length of the terminal. By then though I was too tired to keep track of how long I was waiting.

There was an oddity at the taxi stand. I didn’t notice this until I was near the front where the metal handrails guide the line back on itself. Ahead of me, by about two dozen people, was this strange man. He was thin, white, in his 40s with short hair and he wore thin framed round eyeglasses. He was wearing a lot of white clothing; white sneakers, white jeans and a white jean jacket. The first bit of weird behavior was the huge space he was keeping from the fat woman in front of him. You probably could have gotten more than a dozen people in between him and her. This narrowed as he got closer to the front but still it was quite sizable. No one wanted to speak to him though because he looked disturbed. His eyes were fixated on the ground about 20 feet ahead of him. The oddest part came when he got into a cab. Quickly his driver, a fat Asian guy in his 30s, jumped out and complained to the taxi stand manager that he wasn’t saying anything. The cabbie spent more time yelling at the manager than trying talking to the weird, silent guy. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want him in his car even if he had a destination. About three cabs drove around him before the manager approached the cab. I don’t know what she said (she being a very big black woman, who was almost certainly sassy) but the cabbie got his destination and drove off. I soon got my own cab who quickly drove me back to my mom’s house and I got myself in front of the TV with some Chinese food. There’s no better way to unwind.

The next day was far better. I got aboard the plane and fortunately there was no person in the middle seat. Not that I wasn’t apprehensive about the journey ahead. The storm cancellation the day before had put me in such a worried mood I had no desire to read. I simply sat in my seat, staring out the window. This flight turned out pretty well. My assigned seat was much closer to the cabin exit. There were also at least three attractive women sitting around me that served well as eye-candy. Plus that old woman from the day before was no where to be found. I came to think of her as a bad luck charm.

We arrived in Minneapolis about 15 minutes late but it still left me with over an hour to make my connection. I stopped off in a bathroom and then made my way over to my next gate. I have to compliment whoever designed these bathrooms. They all have those sensors built into the on/off switch. Twice I used the bathroom there and never once did I have to touch anything but myself. By the way, I have no idea where the Larry Craig bathroom is. I kept an eye out for people taking pictures, or maybe even a sign, but no results there.

My gate was again near the Sbarro so I opted for the familiar. It was a pleasant surprise for me. Although I had been in the C-terminal on my way to New York, I didn’t recognize it because I took a different route there. At first I thought I would be forced to eat at the Dairy Queen near my gate, but since I kept walking to do some exploring I happened upon the same Sbarro as before. Now I say I expected to be “forced” to eat at Dairy Queen. I don’t mean that to sound negative. Dairy Queen is fine, basic, American faire. I find nothing wrong with that. My gripe was that this food would be very heavy and as I said I don’t like to eat that when I’m flying. Stupid me though, this time at Sbarro I got greedy and bought two slices. That was a mistake. I felt just the right amount of full after one slice (a pepperoni one). When I got through the second (a concoction of sausage and bacon) I felt so disgusted and bloated. That’s not what I aim for when I’m flying. I still had about 20 minutes before my flight was set to board but I went over to wait at the gate anyway because I wanted to digest comfortably.

As I sat watching all the other San Jose passengers I realized these people were really the most tech dependent. Everyone was on a laptop, a cell phone or a PDA (which possibly doubled as a cell phone). I did not see a single book in the crowd. When general boarding began, somehow I managed to weasel my way up to 3rd in line. That was definitely a good thing because I was boarding an Airbus A330 with the worst seats I’ve ever sat in. They had hard plastic partitions between each seat. I’m sure the intention was to keep passengers from being squeezed together but without separating the shoulder room, you’re still on top of each other. Anyway, I wedged myself into the seat and found that the Northwest ticket agent at LaGuardia had really hooked me up. She gave me seat 5A, in the row right behind first class, so I had a huge amount of leg room. I guess it pays to smile.

Being just behind first class, I got to see what that service means. I must say I wasn’t so impressed. They still get meal service but the food seems like nothing special. It’s served on proper plates but it’s still inside of its microwave safe plastic containers. You also have complimentary wine, but I have no appreciation for that so it would be lost on me. When I overheard the flight attendant ask if anyone wanted ice cream, I quickly became jealous, until I saw the ice cream is served in a tiny, plastic, pre-sealed cup. Where is the luxury? They can’t give first class frickin’ cones? This really soured me on flying first class. Sure I would love the extra seat room, but the aura of extravagance is totally gone.

The rest of that flight was uneventful. I landed in the decrepit C-terminal of San Jose. That means I had to leave the plane on one of those stair cars. It’s not like the one seen on Arrested Development though. This one was two ramps connected to each other. I assume this is so wheelchairs can use this. With all the passengers tromping down the ramps, a vibration was sent through the metal plates. Negotiating that really got my blood pumping. But then I was on my way home. Trip Over.

So as I said I have returned from my New York trip. I haven’t been there since 2004, but that trip did not leave a strong impression on me. Actually I barely remember it. What did I do on that trip?

I should really break this up into sections otherwise this will get long and rambling. Here I’ll talk about some of the events of my trip.

My first impression when I got to my mom’s house was that this place was small. I never felt so confined. This was different than just being squeezed in someplace like an airplane. The apartment, with decades of accumulated possessions, seemed like it would fall down upon me and trap me there. Years of living in California have changed my perception of livable space.

My first full day there was a Friday and I did nothing. I needed to adjust my schedule and I was just plain tired. For some strange reason I woke up at around 4-something in the morning so I was beat. By the way this was a constant problem. Every single day of this trip I was waking up at 4 to 5 am. This was without any alarm clock. No one else in the house was awake so it’s not like someone was making noise. It was all very bizarre and I can’t explain it.

Most of my time was taken up with family obligations but one day I did manage to get away. I had a chance to take a mini-tour of the Lower East Side. I was fortunate to get to eat at Doughnut Plant. It was an experience best described as rapturous. Like many people I heard of this place from the Food Network (or was it the Travel Channel). So from TV I knew what the exterior looked like but I didn’t see inside. I imagined it being fairly froufrou because premium donuts seem like a market that would demand trendy surroundings. This place is the exact opposite. The dining area is a tiny niche in the store. There’s a “bar” with two stools, and a bench along the window. Altogether you could sit six people in there. There’s no mistaking it. Doughnut Plant is a place dedicated to making donuts. Selling them is merely a side business.

But who cares about décor anyway! How did they taste? Fantastic. I tried a coconut glazed, a cranberry, a peanut butter and jelly (with cranberry jelly) and some kind of super chocolate donut. I also had a bite of my friend’s tres leches donut. The yeast donuts are quite chewy. I was not prepared for that. To my further surprise I discovered the coconut glazed had cream inside. This I found when it squirt onto my clothes. I know I should have been mortified but that donut was too delicious for me to care.

Next on the agenda was to drop by Guss’ Pickles and The Pickle Guys. Most amazing to me was that businesses can be built solely on pickling stuff. Is the market for pickling that big? I can’t imagine all their business is selling to retail customers. They must be supplying delis, restaurants and supermarkets. Alas I did not try any. I had just eaten donuts and was in no mood to mix that flavor with pickles. It’s a shame too because I do love a good pickle and it would have been fun to compare the two.

I also dropped by Economy Candy, but I’ll talk about that visit later.

A little more walking brought me to Sugar Sweet Sunshine. This place was highly recommended by a friend as having the best cupcakes (and pudding too). That’s another new thing that’s developed in NYC. When did people start caring about cupcakes? Growing up I remember New Yorkers had a reputation for making a stink about bagels, pizza and cheesecake. Cupcakes seem to have appeared out of nowhere. Anyway, since I was there I knew I had to try one and see what the fuss was about. I picked out a Lemon Yummy because I feel lemon is an underappreciated flavor among desserts. I often hear it criticized as being too artificial, but why does that have to be automatically bad? Why not just judge the taste on its own merits? Who cares if it didn’t fall out of a tree.

Now I really did enjoy this cupcake because I love the tangy, zesty flavor of lemon. However I did notice the icing was hard. It was hard like those unbranded cupcakes that come in day-glo colors and by the dozen in plastic packages in a supermarket. That was rather disappointing. I couldn’t tell if this was intentional or not and I didn’t think asking, “Hey how old are these,” was a good idea. Not that the cupcakes were terrible, but I wouldn’t make a special trip just for them. Visiting Sugar Sweet Sunshine is more of a social event rather than a food destination. I could really see myself enjoying a rainy afternoon there. Sugar Sweet Sunshine uses such warm lighting it makes the place feel like a cocoon. I’d love to curl up in one of those chairs with a plate of cupcakes and listen to the rain fall outside. Now this is all fantasy because a single cupcake costs $1.50. That’s a ridiculous price and one I would not pay regularly. Don’t think they’re giving you jumbo-muffin-sized cupcakes at that price. These are normal size ones. That place is only in business because of its ambiance.

When lunch time rolled around, to my friend’s surprise, I really didn’t feel like going to Katz. I didn’t feel like spending $15 on a pastrami sandwich there, no matter how good. I would have felt bloated and tired after eating that massive sandwich too. Since I had already ate some knishes that week, there wasn’t anything there I felt I should get.

My quiet reserve belied my enthusiasm for what we ended up eating. We stopped at this tiny Vietnamese restaurant near Ave A and 2nd Street. It really was a hole in the wall kind of place, but clean looking. It only had three tables in it. There I had a chance to try banh mi in NYC. For quite some time I had wanted to compare banh mi in New York with what I get here in California. While one shop isn’t the most scientific comparison, it did not disappoint. There I ate the most fantastic spicy chicken banh mi. What’s even better was that this place had an LCD playing the Simpsons! I got to watch Bart vs. Australia over lunch. New York wins!

Following that tasty lunch I then took an epic walk from Ave A and 2^nd Street up to Columbus Circle. My brother had been telling me about a mall that was built there a few years ago. I scarcely believed it because to me Columbus Circle was this place devoid of all reason to visit. The closest thing to a reason was the New York Coliseum but that was still the most depressing venue anywhere. The building always looked run down. Occasionally it held a concert but I think it was better known as being the site of a farmers’ market and Amish furniture sale. That was demolished for the Time Warner Center, which houses the mall.

I should say the mall is a really nice place but even if I lived in New York, I doubt I would visit much. It’s a rich people mall with rich people shops. When I visited, on the third floor, there was this strange demo going on. At the time I could make no sense of it. I saw about 10 people sitting inside this mechanical living room sipping espresso. A sign said something about a “push button house” but there wasn’t much explanation.

Thanks to the Internet I now know I was looking at the Illy Push Button House. It’s supposed to be a demonstration of what mobile mechanics can do. Some have mentioned this as a solution to disaster relief housing. Well, ya see, it doesn’t have a roof so I don’t think many refugees would be happy with this. It’s decent for use as an exhibition space, as long as it doesn’t rain, but there’s also another problem. It’s rather ugly. I don’t care what modernist furniture you use to dress up a shipping container. When you can see the hydraulic jacks, the place is ugly.

The other highlight of the rich people mall was the Samsung store. This is one of those experience stores where they sell nothing, but merely demo all the products from a manufacturer. It was there I fell in love. I held in my hands the Samsung Q1 ultra-mobile PC (or UMPC for short). The form factor was like my Game Gear from years ago, and I always felt that was the most superior handheld game system. I really didn’t want to part from it but I knew I would have to because I didn’t want my yearning for this toy to grow.

Hanging around in Sugar Sweet Sunshine and the Vietnamese restaurant reminded me of how much I missed city life. Those are places that allow spontaneity. I can’t do that here in the South Bay because things are so far apart and you really have to travel by car, you always have an objective when you go out. Destinations must be chosen, directions looked up, schedules confirmed, reservations set. You never get the chance to just meet up with a friend and wander until you find something new. Sitting at Sugar Sweet Sunshine also showed me the city has some spontaneity of its own. I was sitting there talking and looking out the window where I saw an old asian woman run into a mail truck, slide the door shut and the mailman drive off. I don’t know what was going on there.

A lot of my trip was used as downtime at my mom’s house. Since she has no Internet, no computer, and no cable TV, it was a little like stepping back into 1980. Going into it I expected to be really bored and crabby, yet I held up quite well. I can’t say that I missed those three things very much. Having the Internet would have been convenient for looking up some maps but I still survived. Since I was up every morning at 4 am, I learned to love local news, which is pretty much the only thing on at that time. I even learned to tolerate the thinking-optional Today show.

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I actually started watching The View. I blame my mom for this because she loves that show. If I was home at 11 am, that was on the TV. It wasn’t as offensively stupid as I expected. It was more like overhearing a conversation from average dummies at a coffee shop. They would have a discussion on a topic in the news but after the first few sentences you could tell they didn’t think out their positions beforehand. It was just a very unsure, unsupported discussion.

I can’t talk much about primetime network TV because I didn’t watch much of it. I was always struggling to stay awake. If I had to live there permanently, I’d be up at 4 am and in bed by 8 pm. On the night my flight was canceled I did watch Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader for the first time. It’s astonishing how stupid people are. They had a college double major on when I watched who didn’t know how many days there were in a leap year.

But that’s enough for now. There’s more to write about, but not today.

If I actually have any regular readers out there you’ve certainly noticed I’ve been absent for about two weeks now. Well for one I’ve been in New York City for eight days. When I returned home I expected to have lots to write about (and I do). Guess what happened to stop me.

Surprise, surprise, I have a cold. I’m sure I caught it at LaGuardia or the Minneapolis airport or any of the planes I was on. It’s not a terrible cold, but I just don’t feel like doing much. Hopefully I’ll be feeling better at the end of the week and can put some of these many memories on the keyboard.

Oh jeez, oh man, Page Six has rocked me to my core. Their groundbreaking investigation has discovered an anonymous source who claims Tila Tequila, star of MTV’s Shot at Love, is not actually bi. My very world has been shattered. How will I ever have faith in anything again? After hearing this sort of revelation I am so disillusioned I am even doubting Tequila is her real last name. No! I must stop thinking that. Everyone needs to have some core beliefs to build their life around.

Okay seriously now, who didn’t know this from the start? Is there actually a human being so obtuse that this counts as gossip to them? The girl who is famous for being trampy on the Internet has a bogus reality show. It’s almost too obvious to be believable.

The only reason I’m actually bothering to write about this is a quote from Page Six’s source. They said, “Tila has and has had a boyfriend for over a year, and she’s not really bi. She’s made out with some girls in her past, as all girls have, but she is not bi at all.”

Uhmmm… as all girls have? Really? This has me reflecting on my past. Thinking back to all the girls I’ve known…high school…college…post-college…I can’t think of one who has made out with other girls. I guess my luck was spent on finding the tiny subset of women who haven’t fooled around with other women instead of winning the lottery. Well played God.

There’s a comic strip-like battle shaping up in Park Slope. From the shadows an unnamed pigeon killing villain lurks. To take on this menace the Slope has spawned a superhero – the Pigeon Advocate. Using the power of crazed letters posted on streetlight poles, the Pigeon Advocate will henpeck the Pigeon Slayer (hey that is a good name!) into retirement.

I wish I was pulling that story out of my ass but it’s really going on. I’m actually having difficulty writing about this because it’s so disheartening to know that people this crazy are free to roam the streets. Mental asylums really need more funding.

Last month the Pigeon Advocate posted another letter on the street. I’ll quickly summarize, but I encourage you to read it in its original crazy: She found a pile of dead pigeons near a Catholic school / She disposed of the birds but the ASPCA won’t investigate her bird poisoning claims because she didn’t save the bodies for them to test / Pigeons are wonderful.

It’s the last half of her statement that I feel pushes her from bleeding-heart-concerned-citizen to nutjob-animal-rights-zealot. I can respect the opinion that it’s bad to actively kill off birds. It’s beyond good sense to criticize Methodist Hospital for cleaning up bird seed and chasing those bird feeders away. Her statement, “the flock that have historically lived on that block for decades” implies the birds have rights. Seriously now, we’re giving rights to pigeons? If I’m a landlord do I need to get pigeon permission to alter my property now? Methodist Hospital has no choice but to accept birds shitting all over their building and sidewalk?

I have no idea who the Pigeon Slayer is but if I did I would shake their hand. Hell I would donate a few bucks so they could buy more poison. Pigeons are flying rats that spread germs where ever they go. Killing them off is a public service. Those people who scatter bird seed are the real villains here. They make these wild birds become dependent on humans to where their populations are too large to survive on natural food sources. The birds stick around human areas for the easy food and shit all over the place. It’s not as if all this shit is going to fertilize the ground. City streets are concrete and will simply accumulate bird crap until the next rain washes it into the sewers. City streets are dirty enough without being caked in bird feces. These are wild animals and we should let nature take its course.

What’s next after saving pigeons? Will the Pigeon Advocate demand the MTA stop poisoning rats and roaches in the subway? After all, rats and roaches have historically lived in the subway for decades. Guess we have no choice but to let them have free reign.