Nobody Appreciates My Erotic Bird Feeders
Why are you making that face? Oh, I get it. You think it’s icky. Your idea of a nice bird feeder is probably just a pine cone carelessly rolled in a vulgar glob of peanut butter. There’s no passion in that. This collection is a labor of love!
But what good is an arduously-sourced and well-maintained selection of carnal suet dispensers if nobody else can admire them? More people should know about erotic bird feeders! That’s why I installed all 37 of mine right in my front yard! Including the hummingbird feeder with a suggestive nectar nozzle.
I thought it would be a nice gesture — a gift to the neighborhood. But where’s the gratitude? Last Halloween, the children viciously defaced my grackle trough — a frisky little piece called “The Ample Farmhand.” What am I supposed to do now? Those repairs aren’t easy, you know. When it comes to salacious aviary devices, this country only has one restoration expert. And he’s not even on parole yet!
But the neighborhood adults are even worse than the children. Oh yes, Mrs. Maguire, I saw your passive-aggressive post on Nextdoor. “The lunatic across the street just put up 37 horny lawn ornaments.” I can read between the lines, lady! I’m pretty sure you’re talking about me!
She excoriated my hopper feeder that features a saucy little recumbent matron. I don’t know what she was expecting. Hey Mrs. Maguire, why do you think they’re called “bushtits?”
I simply want acknowledgment for amassing dozens of bird feeders that are sensuous and nutritious. In my quest for recognition, I once took some pieces to none other than The Antiques Roadshow! Admittedly, the producers pixelated my collection when I inadvertently stood in the background during a segment about a gaudy old rooster weather vane. But as they were asking me to leave, several appraisers audibly gasped at my “Coy Cavalier.” One of them even said, “I have never seen anything like this.” Coming from an appraiser, that basically means it’s priceless!
But this isn’t just about me. What about the birds? Don’t they deserve a banquet?
Would you not welcome a woodpecker feasting from the glorious visage of human congress?
We admire the robin’s lovely red breast — why not return Nature’s favor? You’re making that face again. Don’t you see? I’m helping our feathered friends!
I don’t know if I can continue to live in a subdivision that shuns ornithological abundance in the form of vaguely erogenous containers and tubes. Alas, cancel culture comes for us all.
To my fellow residents of this declining community: Let my story be a cautionary tale. You’ll be next! You’ll all be next! HOA must stand for…uh…Haters of Art!
