But oh-oh... one of your neighbors has pets. Lots of them. Like more than 100 of them. And they're birds. But not just any birds; they're pigeons. Oh, and let's make the neighbor a convicted rapist. Yep, he's right there on the Nevada sex offender registry.
Does that sound like a freakin' nightmare or what?
Check our this recent article in the Las Vegas Weekly. It begins like this:
Mike Tyson is eager to show off his birds. Pigeons, specifically, more than 100 of them. They chirp away happily in the backyard of Tyson’s Seven Hills gated community home.Oh, good God. Where do we start?
Tyson’s pets are perched in tall, wooden crates whose chicken-wire doors swing open to freedom. He unhitches one of those wired portals and says, “Check this out.” Nothing. The birds ignore the act, content to playfully peck away at their food, themselves or each other. Tyson moves to the back of the cage, opens his hand and slaps hard at the surface. The birds stream out, up and away. Tyson gazes skyward.
“Look at how they roll!” he says as the birds align in a flurry. They circle the sky high above the property, tumbling and flapping as if eager to fly away, forever. You wonder if these birds will ever come home.
“They always do,” Tyson says, squinting as the birds perform their aerial artistry. “When they’re finished, they’ll come back. They’ll be fine.” And Mike Tyson, once the most feared man on the planet, smiles as if transfixed, watching this winged air show. He has long sought peace, and for the moment, he is there.
That's 100 pigeons worth of pigeon shit, people. Explain to me how some of that doesn't end up in neighbors' pools. Can you imagine those poor people? They must be like, "FML."
|Photo by Steve Marcus|