Like a Grackle

"Like a boss." My kids say this. I hear this. People say this. I get it. It's pop culture. But may I submit an alternative? A southern fried option for the Texas cognoscenti? I say the more regionally appropriate phrase is "Like a grackle."  Why? For all those who have ever encountered this winged iconoclast, the reasoning should be clear. Grackles, plainly said, just simply do not give a f*ck. To hell with the honey badger and its already waning cultural relevancy. The grackle is the beast which truly does not care who you are or what you are doing or what you think of its antics. Grackle do what grackle do. And if you don't like it, you can kiss its black feathery ass. On any given day, on any Austin patio, a grackle will proudly fly down to your plate and help itself to whatever overpriced gourmet regionally sourced organic morsel you have procured for yourself. Regardless if your fork is mid-plate or not. With their long beak and steely gaze, they appear less to be distant relatives of pterodactyls and rather simply a seismically reduced version of the ancient beast. Whilst still retaining full-scale pre-historic levels of attitude. Fiercely individualistic, while simultaneously being mass level gangsters, flocks of grackles will take over a parking lot by the thousands. Lining the overhead power lines en masse to poop and scream and strut, seeming to say with every squawk, "we're here...we're grackle proud...and what the f*ck are you gonna do about it?" Are they a nuisance?  Perhaps. Are they a lesson? Absolutely. We could all do with a little grackle pride of our own. Unburdened with excessive self-reflection. Uncaring that there are prettier birds flitting about. Defiantly pecking away at the status quo. I'm currently embarking on a vision quest to find my inner grackle. With no peyote at hand, I'm counting on a mix of locally crafted blackberry cider and imperial IPAs to do the trick. Whatever your path to avian enlightenment, I suggest you ingest whatever substances and quantities you deem necessary, and find your way to this tiny black bird screeching somewhere deep in your soul, bobbing its head, fluffing its feathers, and glaring out at the world with a gaze that says, “Shoo me away. I f*cking dare you.”

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