Maureen Dowd's recent column has made me think about the irony in our lives.
How ironic that the subject of my latest needlepoint stitching is the brown pelican. When I began this creation, I could see the birds from my window and hear them diving headfirst into the Caloosahatchee River with a resounding kerplunk only to resurface with hapless fishes sloshing around in their pouchy beaks. A truly amazing feat -- one wonders how/why they don't break their necks. It's like bungee jumping with a cord that's too long. I glance up from my canvas at the television set, and these descendants of dinosaurs are not diving. or jumping. or fishing. As a species, they have just recently been removed from the endangered list. I hope we haven't acted too hastily.
Continuing with the irony: who can watch the members of Congress grill the CEO of BP without wondering who should cast the first stone.
More irony: America's vacation spot goes on vacation.
Even more ironic: The nation's breeding ground becomes a cemetery.
Can you hear that? I think it's Send in the Clowns.
- not the end- is it?
1 comment:
Oh, dear. I can't look at your needlepoint without thinking of pelicans covered in crude oil. Guess the "plan" is to hope for a deus ex machina.
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