Spoiler alert

I’m sorry to be the one who has to say this, but life is about obligations. Telling people unpopular truths – whether it’s the radicchio stuck to your sole like Mother Nature’s answer to toilet paper or something more like this, it’s a duty I’m not about to give up. You don’t need the spoiler haphazardly affixed to the trunk of your car. Is it a Nissan? An Acura? A beat-up and ancienne Peugeot? My apologies. I’ve never been good with names - only nicknames, you spoiler schlemiel.

You really should remove it. It’s not helping your case. You’re not going to make it to heaven any faster with it on. What are you worried about? That you’ll corner with so much velocity you’ll take off and give everyone what they’ve been waiting for since The Jetsons. Elroy is thrice-divorced and passing the time with cocktails and bocce ball. Ah yes, the Flying Car. How could I forget? We were practically guaranteed them by the media, politicians and those weird people aggressively handing out flyers on the street. The year 2000 was the target. What happened?.

But am I missing something here? Did I lean against a tree and wake up in an alternate universe, now desperately dreaming of ways to get home? Am I imagining those vehicles high up in the sky? Is there any medication you can recommend? What are small planes if not flying cars? Seems pretty close to me. Did you actually expect someone to put wings on a Fiat or hang a pair of turbines onto a dented Saab? C’mon, you can’t be serious. If you want to fly, take a lesson or two and fly. You should be concerned with altitude and not the speed limit. 

People always ask me why I post so much about birds, as if there’s actually a correct number for the right amount of ornithological discussions. What an absurd premise that would be. I talk about birds because they remain relevant. We humans cackle and sneer, putting our brains on pedestals (would that be something if literal?). If you want to fly, talk to the people who do it for a living. And I’m not talking about Sully.