I don’t hear politicians talking about Migratory Patterns of Birds during this election season.
By Stan Bargmeyer, Coma News Daily Intern
I am shocked at how little the candidates running for mayor are talking about the migratory patterns of birds. Plenty of lip service is being paid to taxes, job creation and crime prevention, but little-to-no discussion at all about seasonal, large-scale bird movements from northern climates to warmer southern climates.
I’m sorry, but did I suddenly wake up in a world where the majority of people no longer care about the enormous sacrifices, stress, and physical exertion these birds face on an annual basis to reach suitable breeding habitats?
I suppose most people couldn’t care less about the Bar-tailed Godwit and its nearly 11,000 kilometer trek from Alaska to New Zealand. I know our politicians don’t care. If they did, they’d be peppering in pro-bird migration tidbits in their stump speeches and debates. I don’t even know how far, in miles, 11,000 kilometers is, but it sounds like a long way.
And don’t even get me started about the diurnal migration of raptors. These large, broad-winged birds rely on rising hot air in order to soar, making it really difficult to migrate over large bodies of water. Yet, to hear our candidates speak, you’d think they’d never heard of this significant challenge facing eagles, vultures, and buzzards.
I know I’m not the only migratory bird enthusiast in Coma. There must be at least one or two more (counting me). I don’t understand why these politicians don’t spend more time on courting this under-served constituency.
I am personally challenging the candidates to share their migratory bird platform. I’m certain they have one. They are, after all, human beings for Christsakes. It’s time for us to know where they stand on this issue. You’re either for annual bird migration or you’re against it. We want to know!
By Stan Bargmeyer, life-long Coma resident and Coma News Intern
Fried chicken is a pretty good food to eat, especially if you avoid eating the bones.
I just try my best to eat around the bones. If I can manage to do that, I find I actually kind of enjoy eating fried chicken.
I avoided eating the popular food for years following several near-death experiences as a younger man.
It used to be that I would just eat all of the fried chicken and sharp pieces of bone would get stuck in my throat and I’d almost die. It was my fear of dying and dislike for the taste of bones that made me give up fried chicken, entirely.
Recently, my friends encouraged me to give fried chicken another chance and they went to great lengths to explain that the bones were not, in fact, edible. With great reservations, I gave chicken another chance and had encouraging results.
It was a little clumsy at first and I only really nibbled around the edges because I didn’t want to eat the bone. But with some practice, I got the hang of it and decided it was pretty decent, as far as food goes.
My recent success with fried chicken has inspired me to reconsider other foods I stopped eating or never tried because I thought they were dangerous or too exotic or just not the type of food people like me would eat. But now I think I want to try those things. Like pancakes.
It’s the time of year you start to see cherries in supermarkets and stores. I really enjoy eating a good cherry. It reminds me of summer and sunshine.
A friend of mine, Gus, lives on the other side of the country. I’m always raving about how good the cherries in Coma are. I decided I was going to get him some of those cherries this year!
I decided to mail him some cherries but it is turning out to be a real challenge.
Initially I just set some cherries in the mailbox with a little sticky note that included my friend’s name on it. My postman did not pick them up. When I called the post office they said I needed to include an address and appropriate postage.
So I went to the office supply store in town and picked up some business-sized envelopes and some stamps. When I got home I carefully opened one of the envelopes and placed about a half-dozen cherries inside. I was disappointed about how few cherries the envelope held, but it would definitely be enough to give Gus an idea of how good these cherries were.
I sealed the enveloped and placed a stamp in the corner. Then I tried to write the address on the envelope but the tip of my pen kept piercing the paper and it was really hard to write legibly on the misshapen envelope with the bulges of the cherries creating such an uneven writing space.
I decided to start over. So I got a new envelope, placed some cherries inside, sealed it and went to write the address again (!) and again I had the same problem. The penmanship was terrible. I couldn’t even understand the writing.
So I tried again. And again. Finally, after five attempts (and five wasted stamps), I was able to produce a mostly legible address. Excited, I took the envelope directly to my mailbox and set it inside. I then went back into my house and called Gus to see if he had received my cherries yet (he had not).
I called him again the next day and the day after and still no cherries. A week later there were still no cherries. Finally, I went to check my mail one day and inside was my cherry letter. It was covered in dark red blotches and looked as though it had been involved in a horrible and violent crime. I looked closely at the letter and noticed a yellow stamp on the front that said “Undeliverable As Addressed.”
Oh boy! When did sending mail become so complicated?
As of this writing I have still not been able to successfully mail Gus his cherries. There has to be a better way to do this but I’m at my wit’s end. Fortunately, Gus will be visiting me this fall. So I’m going to keep his returned letter in my desk and deliver it to him myself when he arrives.
It’s not every day that we see greatness, and even more rare to see super-greatness.
That’s why I’m super excited to let everyone in town know that Coma may soon get on the map as the home of the first canine with super powers.
How do I know my dog, Ralph Wiggum, is a super hero? Well, you try eating your own brown dragons and surviving. That’s right, I saw my dog eat his own freshly produced tushy tots a few days ago and he has shown no signs of illness or disease since then.
I had previously seen him eat food off the floor and obviously his food bowl isn’t all that clean but smelly pebbles? Ralph, you just took it to a whole new level. And afterwards he was looking around for more!
How did Ralph get this super power? I have no idea. There haven’t been any asteroid strikes or radiation leaks around us that I am aware of. But anything is possible.
And before you say “A super power to survive (and enjoy?) eating butt truffles is not much of a super power” it’s more useful than you might think. Like, what are the chances he starves to death if his food supply is cut off? Obviously, way lower. And how intimidated would a bad guy be if they saw him non-chalantly chowing down on a turd-pedo? Terrified, I’m pretty sure.
And yes, his super power, like those of so many other heroes, comes with a terrible price. For one thing, I’m not going to let him lick my mouth, anymore.
But that seems like a price he’s willing to pay because he’s shown no sign of slowing down in the use of his super power.
And I don’t know about the rest of you but I feel a lot safer knowing there’s a superdog in this town.
Shane Donovan is a junior at Coma High School and junior intern for Coma News Daily.
The following commentary is the opinion of a citizen of the Town of Coma but does not represent the views of Coma News Daily.
My son Jimmy had a practice for his May graduation ceremony yesterday.
Jimmy’s four years old.
His graduation from preschool is our latest experience with the trend of ever-increasing celebrations at the end of any academic year.
You probably remember a time when the only graduation was for high school. That’s because you’re old.
Now, we have graduated cylinders, Gerber Graduates, and graduations from every one of the K-12s.
All this celebrating may make high school graduation anti-climatic. But the bright side is that 12 years of dry runs should leave kids thoroughly prepared for their high school ceremonies.
If my husband was still with us, he would probably argue against attending our four year old’s graduation from the House of the Little Peoples, especially since the keynote speaker is Spazzo the clown–someone my husband despised.
At the graduation practice yesterday a small child walked up to me and asked if I had any “issues.”
I was shocked and then a little excited that a budding future therapist was apparently offering me a free counseling session.
But little Ollie Singleton has lost his baby front teeth so “tissues” doesn’t come out right. It was a pretty good reminder that sometimes we shouldn’t take four year olds–or their graduations–too seriously.
Sadie Cracker is a columnist for Coma News.
I don’t know what everybody-in-the-world’s problem is but I’m tired of people laughing at me just because I enjoy cream pies. Any time I bring this up, people shake their head and laugh. Like really loving a delicious cream pie is funny. I don’t get it.
If I tell people I like licorice, nobody laughs or chuckles or anything. If I tell them I enjoy making Hamburger Helper, they just kind of nod and move on. But if I mention how much I adore cream pies, they act like a bunch of teenagers and shake their head and laugh and giggle. It makes no sense to me.
So what if I like cream pies? I’m sure lots of people do. I wonder if they get laughed at for admitting it? I wonder if any of them have even tried a cream pie. If they did, they probably wouldn’t be laughing. They’d probably want to high-five me and say “I love those too, Stan.”
I think my favorite kind of cream pie is chocolate. I like how rich and creamy it is. It’s kind of sweet too. It makes me smile just thinking about it.
I enjoy visiting my friends Shannon and Edward. Every time I go see them, I have cream pie. They don’t ever laugh about how much I enjoy their cream pie. They act like mature, grown-up people.
A few weeks ago I was having dinner with friends and someone asked me what my favorite dessert was. I told them I really love cream pie. Everyone at the table started to laugh and one fella said “I bet you do you dirty old man.” They all got a big laugh about it. Why would he “bet” that I liked cream pies. I just told him I liked cream pies. No wagering necessary because I already admitted that I love cream pies. That makes no sense to me.
One thing that is becoming clear to me as I get older is that the world is becoming a much stranger place. It’s even a little scary sometimes. I don’t know what words are going to make people act funny. People are getting weirder and weirder as I get older and older.
I think they all need to slow down and enjoy a cream pie. If everybody had some cream pie every day, I think the world would be a much happier place.
by Micah Horncraft
I’d like to ask that starting today, my friends, family and even strangers begin referring to me as Dragon Master X. For some time now I’ve been working on cultivating a “brand” if you will. This has been a painstaking process but one that has been worthwhile. It’s time to take the next step.
People that know me understand that if we were living in some alternate fantasy world where dragons, elves and giant trolls lived amongst us, I would definitely be some sort of legendary dragon slayer. It is only proper that my name reflect the fortitude, courage and sword-skills I would undoubtedly possess in Lystero, which is what my kingdom would definitely be called. You know it would.
What bothers me is that sometimes people act like I would NOT be some awesome warrior who slayed dragons and restored freedom to the many territories and fiefdoms across the land. It’s as if those people have never met me.
I challenge anyone to find even ONE characteristic that suggests I wouldn’t be able to wield Fangar, the mighty sword of Beckenhollar, forged in the blood of one-hundred kings. Or find some evidence that I wouldn’t be able to mount a dragon through a hail of fire and ash and drive my blade through its thick and rugged flesh.
When I introduce myself as Dragon Master X, people will be like “of course, that name suits him so well.”
When I tell people they can call me Dragon Master X, or Dragon Master for short, they will nod and say “that’s exactly the name I would of guessed for you.”
I understand that there may be some transition involved. People who have known me for years by my mortal name, Micah, will likely have to break old habits. I accept this will not change overnight. I’m a patient man, as any lord of dragon slaying would be. Please know when I correct you, it is not done out of frustration or anger, but simply as a way to help you understand the new reality.
That being said, if in like six months you are still calling me Micah, I’m going to be irritated and may even walk off in a huff. I’m sure it won’t get to that point though.
For those of you who are still unsure about my new name, I’d like you to try something; close your eyes, clear your mind and then say to yourself the words Dragon Master X. Whose image pops into your head?
I rest my case.
Thank you for your understanding.
Dragon Master X