Never go to the Science Museum of Minnesota again.
NEVER GO TO THE SCIENCE MUSEUM OF MINNESOTA AGAIN!
Why? Because it's a dank little hole of lies and sexual deviants.
When liars and traitors die, do you know where they go? They go to the Science Museum of Minnesota, where they lie and betray humanity for all of eternity. They sit in caves, fearing the light of truth and honesty, and wallow in the lies that have spilled like dairrhea from their most unclean and unholy of orifices.
Should you pity these liars, these eternally damned sneakthieves and cutthroats? No. Do not waste your tears on them, for they are dog-fuckers, melon-molesters, and bird-strokers. They are hole-dwellers, bed-shitters, and shit-eaters. Can there be mercy for these lamb-punchers, finger-sniffers, and skunk-humpers? No, not for bottle-breakers, ass-pickers, and nut-crunchers.
They are banned from petting zoos and public swimming pools, and it will forever remain in your interest to avoid their company, so, for God's sake, do not go to the Science Museum of Minnesota. For that matter, do not allow your friends or relatives to go, unless you enjoy the idea of your mother trapped in an elevator with a sweating, trembling pederast. I know that you do not, so don't let your mother be groped in the dark by these albino, charlatan, mother-fondlers.
Why is it that I only now spread the truth? I am, after all, still employed, regrettably and ashamedly, at this nest of snake-charmers and rat-rapers. I now spread the word of truth because it was only this evening that I discovered that a betrayal most vile has been committed upon me. Committed upon me, and, more importantly, upon all of you, and upon an innocent raptorling, a falcon-child who must now go through its miserable and pathetic life with a name not good enough for a tapeworm.
That's right. The peregrine falcon that should have been Pussywillow has been given up to the mouth breathing hordes, and named was named "Nimbus."
Do you remember? This spring, the Science Museum of Minnesota claimed that the people of the world could democratically select a name for the newly hatched falcon chicks near the St. Paul highbridge. The process seemed clear enough - nominations were accepted, and votes were taken. I myself voted several times. And, lo and behold, the best name won! My name! The falcon was to be named "Pussywillow," thanks, in large part, to your efforts. Look, here, look:
And now, look at this, if you have the time (page 19)
The names of the falcons are Sky, Nimbus, Gyrnn, and Century.
A liar has intervened. A liar, a traitor, a horse thief, a chronic masturbator. A Nimbus, a Gyrnn, a Century.
This was not the work of the DNR, this was the doings of the worst institution in the world (worse than slavery), the Science Museum of Minnesota. Sky was the name selected by a local grade school - they can be forgiven, for they are only half-grown, and no smarter than worms and dirt. But the boldfaced, bare-assed betrayal of the SMM is too much. They had three chances to give a falcon the name Pussywillow, and they threw them all away. They gave them to doughy, boring, garbage-eaters, who could think of no names more memorable than Nimbus, Century, or Gyrnn. The falcons should be euthanised, and saved them from a life of humiliation.
Pussywillow is dead. Long live Pussywillow.
*2009 Addendum—Please disregard some of the more virulent language in this post. It was written in high spirits.