Which Side Is Up? The Anatomy of a Cocaktoo

Hello, Reader, and happy Tuesday! I hope your weekend and Monday were just straight lovely (but not too lovely, gotta save room for improvement), and that birds were on the mind while I was away. Now, I know, you might be thinking, 'what does our favorite author have for us this week?'. Well first of all,  look at the title, and second of all, if you're illiterate and can't read the title, I deeply and sincerely apologize for my ignorance, but come on dude, how are you gonna make it this far to this article and still lack the knowledge to read the title. So without any further ado, let's get into it;

The Anatomy of a Bird

Most birds have very similar body structures, two eyes, two wings, two (strangely human?) ears, a beak, a heart, a slightly darker colored heart, and some feathers (maybe something else I'm forgetting?). Regardless of what kind of bird it is, you're pretty sure you know vaguely what they look like, because they're all birds right? And then you get to this guy:

The Cockatoo

Now don't tie your underwear into a rope and attach one end to your car and the other end to your limited edition Halloween exclusive version of Die Hard 2 to scorn the very existence of this affront to God. In reality, this animal is actually very kind and gentle, and though he looks strange, is he actually the way birds were meant to be? Let's take a look.

The Anatomy of a Cockatoo

If you look closely, you can see that this bird actually has two heads, no wings, and only one neck. You might be considering powering off your computer and throwing it away just to be sure that this cursed image will not assail your home any longer, but stick with me. Considering the fact that this bird has no lower half, and every organ it needs is in its neck, this bird's life is ridiculous when you really consider it. Since it has two heads, it has two brains that (can) talk to each other (but won't). These heads will almost always reach perfect Nirvana by age 3, and lack the need to talk to each other, they simply understand when the other wants to eat, or go potty, just like me and Jacob. I won't get into how they designate which one goes to the bathroom, but trust me when I say that either way, it's not great. Notice the lack of wings. This bird doesn't need wings. They glide through the air like a half empty root beer bottle chucked across you back yard by your Father to your Uncle Jimmy on the 4th of July. No one really knows how but we can all agree it's pretty funny. This bird also has no feet, so when he tries to hunt he lays there like a slug, endlessly spinning, trying over and over to catch a worm out of the ground. This never works, but luckily, the two harmonized brains grant him a higher level of power, meaning he can psychically incapacitate his prey and levitate it to his mouth. He will reproduce with sheer willpower alone.

Is This How Birds Were Meant to Be?

I'm gonna say yeah, probably this is how birds were meant to be forever. Then someone threw a ball through old Mr. Bird Maker's window and he said 'fuck it, these kids wanna play around, I'm gonna fuck with their birds.'

And so he did.

He invited a male and a female of every kind of bird and changed them into the abominations we have today. But uh-oh, mother fucker, the cockatoo had a dentist appointment, so suck it Bird Boy, we still have one kind of all-powerful aviary being, and we're keeping them.

Stupid new wave bullshit birds

Do I Hate The Feral Old Bird Maker?

Don't get me started

Reader, I would like to thank you for sticking through this weeks article, and learning about the wonders of the world that we call cockatoos. I sincerely hope you learned a lot and that will join me again for my article next Tuesday. Until then, please enjoy the posts made by my co-authors Riley and Jacob, and don't miss me too much.

You Know What? No, Hold Up I Got Started

Who does this Bird Maker think he is? He thinks he can just take our psychic birds away from us? What the actual fuck? This asshole was a spiteful, egotistical, bird prankster in his prime. At his peak he was worth no more than a worm, to be scooped up by the iron beak of my rage. And in his old age has he gotten more wise? No. He has regressed in his elderly years into a rogue, lone wolf, leaving all sense of discipline and maturity behind, and instead, has plunged us into an age of depravity with no regard for the needs of the people he was created to please with his promises of the grace and beauty of birds. So do I hate this Feral Old Bird Maker? You bet your sweet ass I do. I'm calling you out Bird Maker. Make your own way into the pits or fire, the chasms of hell, or face me like a man, and I will send you there myself.  Cower in fear, Bird Maker. Fear the day that the light does not come, for that will be my day of reckoning. My birds will block out the sun.

See you next week, Reader!