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18:57 - August 05, 2002
baby duck
If I were to be on 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?' I wouldn't win a single dime, or even a consolation prize hair curler, and this is why:

Regis: Welcome to the show!
Me: Thanks. Just out of curiosity, why did your mother name you 'Regis'? Or did you make that up yourself? Because it sounds like a toilet cleaner.
Regis: My mother is dead, you insensitive jerk!
Me: Ah. I was not aware.
Regis: Maybe next time you should study your Regis trivia before you attempt to make your stupid jokes!
Me: I'm not stupid, I'm just inappropriate. Will you just ask me a question already?
Regis: Who is the well-known spokesman for bathroom sanitizer? A) Mr. Happy. B) Mr. Clean. C) Mr. Horseface. D) Mr. Washcloth.
Me: E) Regis Philbin. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But you really brought that up at a bad time.

I am forced to think about such things when polishing benches at work with no music to occupy my mind.

Do you know where your mind goes when you're not watching? I wrote a letter to an unhatched baby duckling that was still in its egg laying under its mother on Keiunto Island. It goes a little like this:
Dear Unborn Baby Duck,
I saw your mother today, July 30th, sitting under a low lying shrub trying to make herself invisible and small. She was the only duck in the group who didn't quack like mad when I approached; you will be born into a large noisy hovering family, duckling, with lots of mothers, because there were at least ten of them keeping watch over your real mother as she sat quietly in the underbrush. Your home has a fancy name in another language, but to you this will only mean wide expanses of grass and pond and exuberant children with bread eager to fill your tummy. You are an only child. I know this because there were no other eggs under your mother when she shifted her weight from one side to the other. You will be doted upon by your eleven mothers unwaveringly; they will never let you out of their sight, they will feed you too much food, and they will proudly protect you with madly flapping wings from any wild child who reaches an unruly hand out to stroke your down feathers.
So don't forget to migrate when winter comes. Follow your chattering mothers, although they will irk you with their noise. It gets cold here. Your mother made me believe that if a duck and a human accidentally quack and speak the same meaning at the same tmoment, they will understand each other. I did not touch your mother's back out of respect; not because she tried to attack me, which she didn't. Remember this about her when you hatch.

 

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