I won't beat around the bush here, our society has plenty of issues that it has to deal with on a dialy basis. Sexism, racism, homelessness and Chuck Norris killing rampages just to name a few. But there's an elephant in the room that no one is talking about, and I refuse to bite my tongue any longer.

We must find a solution to the 'pigeon problem'.
The average day of a pigeon consists of shiting on architecture, carrying malaria to unsuspecting vagrants and eating/begging-to-eat anything up to and including small rocks. At least I can ignore homeless people, or just point and laugh at them, but these techniques do little to dissuade pigeons from following you about. The only technique I've found that works is attempting to punt the pigeons, but then people look at you in horror, as if you kicked some living thing of value.

Lifeless eyes and a predatory nature? Yes indeed. Razor sharp talons? More than you can shake a stick at. Life endangering, pointy beak where mouth should be? You bet your fucking ass. Travel in large, anti-social groups? Why yes. Yes they do. Am I being followed by thirty-two of them on my way to get coffee because they think there's crumbs on my person? Holy Christ I am!
The birds will find no crumbs, but you'll find yourself left as a pecked to death pile of fuck and entrails. I assure you there is a point to all this pigeon bashing; the article is called 'The Pigeon Story', after all. Allow me to bestow upon you the story of one young man's journey through San Diego, and the pigeon (plus or minus some beer) that led to his tragic expulsion from a fine Greek restaurant.
One day in late 2007, I was wandering about in a touristy part of downtown San Diego, after having just completed a job interview at a company that I would later learn to hate. It was around noon, rather warm outside, and I was in a suit and tie. Which inevitably meant that I was forced to wave a de-sexing stick around in the air most un-sexily to keep the women from raping me and my fuckalicious attire. Seeing as how I had nothing to do with the rest of my day, and given that it was around the time of lunch eating, I decided to partake of some food from a local sea-side eatery.
Being near the sea meant the ratio of homeless/pigeons to normal people was staggeringly high, and being as that it was warm outside all the doors to the restaurants were open. This of course allowing for a fun combination of sea-stink and useless tourists conversations to waft on through. I chose to eat at a small Greek cafe, which was chosen because: 1) Greek food is delicious; and 2) Greek food is delicious and if you don't think so, fuck you; 3) This Greek place makes their own beer.
In true European fashion, I ordered the carafe of their tasty, homemade pale ale...after having not eaten that day...and having been wandering about in the hot sun for at least an hour in my sex suit. Not being a shitty restaurant, they had to prepare my food, which took some time. The timeline of my food's completedness was something along these lines: Ordered --> Sitting --> Two beers down --> More sitting --> Three beers down --> Dehydration/buzz activated --> Food done. My solo luncheon had turned into a date, as I was now accompanied by my sweet, sweet buzz.
I began stuffing my face with scrumptious food, and it twas around that time that I noticed that my date had an awkward third wheel. I look down to see a shitty, and persistent pigeon eyeing MY food. I emphasize MY food, because i think it bears reminding you that the food was in fact mine, and in no way was the pigeon entitled to any of it. Because the restaurant doors were open, there was no effective way to limit the pigeon traffic, which I sadly hadn't noticed when I entered the establishment. Now you may be wondering, how does a public banishment result from all this?
Sitrep:
- I hate all annoying things, including pigeons.
- I was mostly drunk off heavy, European style beer.
- All the food I has was mine. Mine.
- I was in a restaurant surrounded by parents and their children.
- A buttfuck pigeon kept standing twelve inches away staring at me, despite many polite shoo's (using my foot of rage).
It was time for plan B. Which consisted of violently thrashing my leg at the pigeon and yelling the following phrases at it: "Get away from my food you dildo!", "I will fucking cut you if you eye my food again!", "You're a piece of shit, get a job." and the ever popular "I wish all the bad things in life would happen to you, and nobody but you!"


Perhaps I'm old-fashioned. Perhaps I long for the days of old. But gosh-darn it, I want to live in a world where pigeons have to ride in the back of the bus, and they have to eat in their own restaurants separate from mine.
