Hey! It’s Art! Artie. Art Cop. Friendo to many. Pops to at least one of you goofs. Somebody let me back in the studio. Snuck in through the out door. I locked the door behind me. I’ll exit through the window. In the meantime (spins hat and chair backwards) let’s rap for a spell. Ready? All right, let’s go:

We’re in this together now. First, upon request (thanks Bulldada) let’s discuss the Ortolans. Look at this birb up there!

Humans developed a taste for this little fellow, and developed some weird traditions around eating them as well. Like, covering your head with a napkin weird. They’re wee lil birbies (~16cm, ~6.5in for you weirdos from the USA) and although I’ve never consumed one I can only imagine they don’t have much meat on the bone. But that’s humans for you. Humans do some strange things sometimes. But yr birb’s life is made up of trying to parse baffling decisions so I’m not very fazed at this point.

But yr birb is good at transitions. Or at least prolific with transitions. And you can’t score if you don’t shoot. So, let’s discuss how our beliefs shape our lives in unexpected ways. Let’s discuss how our beliefs are shaped by life in unexpected ways. After all, we’re in this together now. *preens*

It’s often stated idealisms are the purview of the young. By implication the claim is it is the realm of the foolish, the unexperienced, the unbled. And with time reality will disabuse the idealistic of their silly notions. The ideals are simply waiting for reality to correct them. The natural order will soon take hold.

I submit to you, my friendos, ideals are instead what we have to hold on to. It’s the jut of rock above the chasm’s maw. Don’t look down lovelies. Because it’s exactly what you expected. Our ideals provide the hope for something other than that fear. Don’t let go. We’re in this together now. And I need all the friendos I can get. *preens*

Naturally, then, it leads a birb to wonder: for whence does the inspiration to our ideals come? If an ounce of the blather is even close to the mark, an ideal is something special. Somebody of a certain bent might even say it has that spark of the divine.

So, again, where is the origin? From whence comes this little spark to our clay? No need to look very far, for the inspiration comes from each one of us. The brave and bold, willing to stake a solitary footstep in furtherance of something beyond our own beaks. And by trodding the unshorn lands of tomorrow’s promise we take risks to be born anew. Like a seed. Like an egg. Like a toot. Okay, give me a break, I only had a few hours to come up with this.

And although this is a community prone to deflection from compliments I do think this is a place of ideals. Birbs taking flight. Soaring, happy, interested. Tasty little Ortolans is what I describe you as. I would definitely cover my head with a napkin. Nomnomnom. We’re truly in this together now.

Don’t step on the flowers. Smoke em if you got em.