Never have I been so excited and humbled to write a blog. Why? Let me set the scene. Over a year ago, I was experimenting with my Slendertone gadget. If you don’t know, that’s a product that builds up your muscles by electrocuting them. It’s kind of a useful torture, if you will. Anyway, I was raising then lowering the electricity level repeatedly, to play a little tune. (If you lower the intensity, you will hear one short bleep, and if you higher the pain, you hear another one, roughly a semi-tone higher). ‘So what?’ I hear you cry. Well, soon enough, the birds in my street started copying the melodies I made. They went a little something like this, in a constant quaver rhythm: ‘C, C, C, Db, C, Db, C’, or ‘C, Db, C, Db, Db, Db’…. etc., etc. That kind of stuff.
‘Is that it?’ No. More than a year later, I was cycling around a woodland area, 8 miles away. Guess what I heard. My little compositions had evolved. I wasn’t hearing semitones anymore, but more consonant, random major third intervals in the exact same rhythm. E.g., ‘C, E, E, C, E, C’ or ‘E, C, E, C, C, E, C’. Needless to say, I seem to have struck a chord with the birds, and made a lasting impression. Perhaps, I am even some kind of musical God to them, or less grandly the avian Mozart. Maybe the creatures long for my next creation, and maybe one day I will perform it for them. Maybe I could write an extra long, Slendertone symphony. Something a little like this… ‘C, C, C, C, Db, C, Db, C, C, C, C, Db, C, Db, C, C, C, C, Db, C, Db, C, C, C, C, Db, C, Db.’ Yes, that’s a tune in 7/8, like something Stravinsky would do. But maybe it’s a piece so out there, it could cause massive flying riots. Who knows?
So, what could the significance of all this be - how would being Bird Jesus affect my life and my obligations? Do these animals expect some kind of afterlife from appearing to worship me, and if so what does it look like? Fields and fields of worms and seeds, perhaps? Anyway, how would I explain myself when a dying bird crawls up to me, and prays for me to perform its last rites? I simply wouldn’t have the heart to tell it, that its whole belief system was based solely on me getting a workout. It is for this reason, I always carry a bag of grain with me, just in case a near fan is feeling peckish. It's enough to feed a bird for its whole life, and therefore enough to make it seem like I have a never ending supply. Seemingly proof that I am indeed, a God.
Is everything sorted out, then? No… What if worms start thinking me of the Devil? Many years ago, I remember my friend saying that the same animals will take over the world, because you can’t shoot them. He’s got a point. Sure, they have IQs of less than 1, and they can’t operate any kind of weapon, but if you can’t shoot them, right? My God. Would I want whole armies of the things after me, just because birds keep performing my works? Because of this fear, I have fortified my bedroom with impenetrable steel walls and an iron door, all 12 inches thick. When I leave it, I carry an extra large can of wormicide. NOW is everything sorted out? Sure. Why not? Byeeee.