That's a grackle in the photo.
Gorgeous irridescent black feathers. According to Wiki, the Quiscalus Grackles are even better than parrots for imitating human speech.
I don't care about that, I like the word grackle. That's what birds do, they mill about grabbing seed in the back yard and they grackle.
It sounds like the bird equivalent of gossip, they grackle. Ever heard Rex Hunt at a football match, he grackles. Politicians grackle. It's a beaut word, should be heard more.
24 comments:
Excellent word. I shall endeavour to use it in a sentence this very evening. Probably while telling hubby about grackles (cheating I know). But I shall challenge him to use it in a report at work.
The word really appeals to me Mindy. Wiki has the sound of a grackle grackling but on dial-up I could be there forever. I saw Costello tonight but you couldn't say he was grackling, more like speaking from the bottom of a tomb.
I used to grackle all the time in my youth, but nowadays I've found that I need glasses.
I've seen the hair on the palms of your grackles, (not a pretty site as we in the archeamological business say ... or more likely grunt) which is more than you can say for yourself given your self-inflictified hairy eyeballed blindness.
Grackle, Grackle, not tackle you blind pair of tackling fools. *mumbles to self, pair of tools, grackling*
Hello birdie.
This week I saw (in the Otways) my first bower bird bower - it comprised blue pen tops and bottle tops and blue feathers of crimson rosellas. hysterical.
I came here to mention your favourite thing -impact craters -Todays Guardian:
"A meteorite has struck a remote part of Peru and carved a large crater that is emitting noxious odours and making villagers ill, according to local press reports.
A fireball streaked across the Andean sky late on Saturday night and crashed into a field near Carancas, a sparsely populated highland wilderness near Lake Titicaca on the border with Bolivia, witnesses said.
The orange streak and loud bang were initially thought to be a plane crashing. When farmers went to investigate, however, they found a crater at least 10m wide and 5m deep, but no sign of wreckage."
Darlings one can't help noticing that the Green High Church version of the Laybore Party got a hiding in both by-elections even though copping default votes from Libberall donkeys who would NEVER VOTE LAYBORE. So looks like trucks will continue roaring through Yarraville smudging new paintwork on tastefully renovated latte cottages STOLEN FROM THE PROLETARIAT who were never bothered by them at all being as they were WORKERS IN DIRTY INDUSTRIES letting live HONEST TOIL. But sweeties one hastens to appreciate how the sensibilites of SOFT TERTIARY EDUCATED NICE HOME PINE-O-CLEAN PARASITES will be offended by odour and the sight of HONEST HARD LABOR because if they ever did any they wouldn't be GOING TO THE GYM which is necessary for chair-sitting well-fed bastards. The fact is these dirty lying middle class scabs of school teachers and bludgers are infesting Yarraville Newport West Footscray and so on fouling the streets with FOUCAULT FUCKHEAD PHONEY WISDOM which no one understands including themselves. So get back east, you sweetly enunciating arts degree bumholes "I'll have foccacia thanks, Naidoo. And how are you today?" Fuck off!- you useless stupid word foreign loving fashion zombies pushing up prices everywhere. Twenty years education and you're dull! Boring! Stupid! I'VE HAD NONE AND I AM INTERESTING! How's that. Work it out you dreary thieving bureaucratic bums who can't tell a pimp from a postman. Do some RESEARCH. Find out you little budgies that a good bashing in a police station to sign a grackled up statement for things you never did makes you a first rate sociologist. An expert on democracy, liberal thought, and all its phoneys. History ends. That's right -every generation. And starts off again; bullshit and cockroaches.
Nothing changes.
I want some of those drugs that R.H. is on. Either that or I need the standard Ozzie-Sudofed to Brit-Bollocks Translation Dictionary. I'm sensing anger, resentment, a hint of Cockney Barrow Boy Burton casting a reverse glance across his shoulder with a smidgeon of negative emotion, liberally dosed with ambiguity, disestablishmentarianism and a bottle of scotch...but apart from that I'm flummoxed.
Shorter Rh...hates lattes and social workers but likes women and loves wine.
It's a pungent, not so little, crater which is giving off noxious fumes and making the animals go nuts. No radioactivity so they say it's not a satellite but the ISS could have heaved a full dunny overboard by mistake.
Begging your pardon Miss Jahteh but I love women and hate booze. And that comment from Tom Jones was directed at me, not you. Wake up to yourself, next thing we know you'll be Paris Hilton.
I posted a comment about Sonia Kruger somewhere and can't find it.
What a babe.
"A fireball streaked across the Andean sky late on Saturday night..."
You get a lot of streakers on Saturday night. Sedgwick tried it last summer and the rubbing of his thighs against the underbrush started several fires.
R. H. I can't believe you don't like social workers. The entertainment value in watching them believe one hundred per cent the tales from Scottish schoolkids about Satanic priests with grackling hooks, justifies their existence alone.
A social worker took me to Healesville Sanctuary on a rainy day and we sat in the crowded rotunda, her with a stalled raindrop on her cheek, and the mystery of who we were.
Sorry Rh, I thought you preferred wine to beer.
"A social worker took me to Healesville Sanctuary on a rainy day and we sat in the crowded rotunda, her with a stalled raindrop on her cheek, and the mystery of who we were."
See...I said they were good for a laugh.
Yes well she was displaying herself, and she'd given me a raincoat that reached my feet; too big for me. But I wouldn't make that sort of comment again, it's steered by a couple of pommy birds I've been reading -darlings, all the same. I feel more sorry for women than for blokes, their tragedies are much worse.
I'm astonished at how right Foucault was about the mentally ill, and the determination of doctors, socal workers and therapists -a huge army, to change their point of view. It's spreading to the whole of society -this 'education' and correctiveness- driven by a thing called The Latte Set.
It's a new kind of Stalinism, for a bored society; a society that has everything.
Bet they haven't got a Swiss Army Eggwhisk. Very few people, with the possible exception of those in the Swiss Army, have got one of them. It comes with an attachment for grating cheese. Society would never be bored again.
... ooh ah err ha haa haaa.
Antiquarian Hughes aka Tom Jones
suggesting RH is 'on' something
cannot be right,
since RH managed to incorporate
the super-pluperfect subjunctive of 'grackle' -
"a grackled up statement " ..
into his rant.
One would have to be straight for that one .. or a National Treasure.
I've sent him a copy of my book: Jokes for the Bereaved (Collins. $99.00). I don't know if it'll work; so far all they've laughed at is the price.
Wooh!- I should have put that in bold, to make it tedious! But I don't know how (to be tedious).
-Robert.
(aka Barry White)
You're a lot of wondrous things, RH, but tedious is not one of them.
I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on
Until I'm sure that you've been shown
That I can be trusted walking with you alone.
Owoooooooo!
-Sam the Sham.
(And the Pharoahs)
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