DINOSAURS

The premise of Terra Nova is the worst save humanity from itself idea. Basically in the far future, when the earth is on it's last legs, people get sent into the past to go live there. BUT THERE'S DINOSAURS THERE. That doesn't make sense. Wouldn't that sort of thing affect the future? We've all read A Sound of Thunder, right? Dinosaurs! Complaining about a tv show I'll watch for 5 minutes in the future! Because there won't be a dinosaur in the first 5 minutes and I will be all like, "Fuck this noise." If I remember when it's on, which I probably won't. Blah blah blah urhg it's too hot. They, the people who report the weather, which is clearly controlled by the government, are predicting a wave to come into the area. Not just any wave, but a heat wave. I haven't left the house all day. (I went to go get some pizza. I felt like such a stoner walking back to the van from which Cypress Hill was blasting, then moving a few spaces down so my brother could go into 7-11. My cutoff dickies and Vincent Black Shadow t shirt, with a silvery winged and horned skull, and sandals, completed the whole mess.) Anyway. I didn't know that there even was a Women's World Cup until last friday. There's a really cool short story titled Kamikaze Butterflies that turns A Sound of Thunder on its head, I believe it's by David... something, you got the internet, you can look it up. What a great title for a story. One of my favorite story titles is Drink My Red Blood by Richard Matheson, it also happens to be the best vampire that I read in 2010. One of my favorite album titles is A Night at the Opera, by Queen, who else. This thought came to me as I was walking west on Lawrence a few days ago. The weather was quite pleasant and the sun felt good on my skin. I had packed an umbrella earlier because when I left the sky was a nice unwashed gray, who was laughing now. Mere minutes earlier I was thinking of the pigeon man who used to hang around just north of the Lincoln statue. He was an eldery gentleman, his clothes rumpled and faded, as if they were just tinged with color, except for browns and blues and blacks. He'd stand there, feed some pigeons, and in a blink of an eye he'd be engulfed with them. You ever see a guy with a beard of bees? Like that, but it was a suit of pigeons. Most people would just keep going on their way after a quick puzzled glance. Some would pretend to ignore it. Every once in a while I would read about him somewhere and once I saw some dudes recording the event and talking to him. He died a few years ago and there's not as many pigeons as there use to be hanging around north of Lincoln. AND SUDDENLY! A BLOGPOST.