Ravens

I am pleased with you, my children. You have learned to like that which you previously did not appreciate, and you've become better people for it. I'm so pleased that I've decided to grant you some autonomy. Henceforth, I will only tell you what you like three days a week, on Sunday, Wednesday and Friday. On the other four, you must navigate this life, with its multitude of choices, with only the guiding words "What would Rick like?" to lead you. Go forth and like, disciples.

On this inaugural Sunday, you like ravens (http://www.shades-of-night.com/aviary/). Yes, the large black birds so often associated with tales of the grim and ill omens.

Ravens are damn smart. These clever fellows have distinct personalities, have developed play behavior and even the ability to "lie" to their fellow ravens by, for example, pretending to hide food somewhere and then squirreling it away in another location. They can also problem-solve: suspend a piece of meat from a branch on a string, and a raven will use its beak to pull the string, anchor it with its talons and pull again until the meat becomes accessible. Okay, so it ain't E=MC2 (how the fuck do you do the little "2" in this Christ-fucking computer program!?), but they're birds, dammit - smarter than many of you yo-yos, anyway: "I need Rick Spalding to tell me what I like. I don't know what I like, Rick, what do I like? Please tell me." Stupid-heads.

Shit, did I just think that, or did I write and publish it....?

Anyway, there's some legend that if the Tower of London ever loses its resident ravens, the monarchy will fall. I like ravens, so I'd hate to see them killed. But maybe we could just not replace them when they die of natural causes. Fuck parliamentary democracy - bring on the republic!