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“When Jesus died for your sins he wore a crown of thorns, not a lobster bib“.

God and I have agreed to disagree many times over the last few years. Usually when he appears to me in my dreams and encourages me to purchase a semi-automatic rifle and shoot up an Arby’s. Obviously I haven’t flipped my wig to that extent. The Big Montana is frickin’ delicious.

But we’re getting close to a compromise, me and God. I absolutely hate seafood and apparently so does the big guy. God Hates Shrimp is a website devoted to the Bible’s many clues regarding our heavenly father’s position on aquatic life, and I encourage all of you to read it. Snacking on crustaceans is apparently akin to adultery, murder, coveting and buggery on the sin-o-meter.

You’d think that someone who took the time and effort to invent 40,000 different species of fish and sealife would be a more supportive parent. You’d think such an obvious parody of conservatives would be a lot less funny (see my thoughts on Jon Stewart). But well done, my falafel-eating friends. Credit where credit is due. Make sure you look at the T-Shirt page, too. Pinch the tail and suck the head, sinners.

Birds. Glorious Birds.

… reads this brand new site’s tagline. And such language might actually seem exciting if we were in England. But the Concord Avian Society is actually a group of guys I went to high school with who spend their weekends watching birds. Yes, the kind that fly – not the kind that hang around in tight Robbie Williams T-shirts waiting for you to buy them pints of bitter. Or ‘my type’ as they’re more commonly known.

Although their consolidation and website are relatively new, these guys have been ‘birding’ for years. When someone first told me this crew had become fowl-fondlers I originally thought they were kidding. Tromping through Walden woods on a Friday night looking for owls sounds like something you’d have to endure after losing a bet. But when you dig a little bit deeper into their modus operandi, the avian attraction becomes more apparent.

“Friday night we will be heading out to Egg Rock in search of a Barred Owl. There will be no booze at this event, unless Cato brings Bud pounders“.

OK, now you’ve gotten my attention. I haven’t raced through the woods with a six-pack of pounders since about 1991. OK – last weekend if we’re splitting hairs. And apparently the society also encourages hazing and deviant sexual activities. I may be in.

“We will head up to Rockport and Gloucester in search of Harlequin Ducks and Razorbills. Please dress accordingly and leave your sarcasm at the door. I’m bringing the Rocky Soundtrack, so if anyone gets out of line you’ll be put through rigorous training… we can catch a lunch of fried clams in Essex where Savage will hit on a barley legal waitress at Woodman’s“.

Now that sounds like a Saturday. Get me a pair of binoculars and some bird-lice talc. I think I’m going to ask Wells if they’ll grant me honorary member status. A wise man once said, “Are you going to chirp all day little birdie, or are you going to peck?” I’m definitely a pecker.

Dealing with a lot today, folks – on many levels. So I was pleasantly surprised by this e-mailed little gem which has had me laughing for 10 minutes now. It’s also refreshing when emails with subject lines like “Best e-mail ever you have to read this LOL!” actually turn out to be funny, as opposed to an angel-related chain letter. Simple things…

This is obviously 2 dead mice from separate traps, with the fornicator’s corpse moved on top of the fornicatee’s corpse: ‘Mousey-Style’. Or is it? They are, after all, among the filthiest of little creatures. I knew mice spread dysentery and the black plague – but necrophilia? I feel like I need to go and take a shower. With a dead chick.

What a wonderful Saturday in human history. Not only is the big Mardi Gras party tonight, but the new fish tank is up, running and populated! Monster and I drove to the Galleria this morning and stocked up on supplies. I got a new light, food, 2 underwater Mayan castles, a net and even a new scratching post for the Boss. And what of the fish, you ask? You’ll remember earlier this week I was all excited about getting to choose what sort of fish I wanted. I even asked for suggestions. It turns out, the nice lady at Petco told me what sort of fish I had to buy. And they’re scarcely bigger than ants. I was disappointed. I’ll explain.

“You’re going to start off with three Tetras.” The lady turned her back to me and walked over to the tank she had in mind. I immediately balked – “I am? These guys are miniscule. May I ask why?” She didn’t appreciate my questioning her ultimate fishy wisdom. “Because. They’re hardy” came the strained reply. Obviously she meant that the little buggers were resilient, and a good way to kick off a new tank and balance out the PH levels before introducing more delicate additions. “What, like they solve mysteries together?” That got her laughing, and she ended up being quite helpful in the end. As opposed to the fat twat I initially took her for.

So she gave me three Tetras to start off with. Any more than three fish introduced at a given time can cause toxic shock to the rest of the community. They’re tiny (for scale see the one circled above to the right in front of the sacred Mayan temple) and indistinguishable from one another – so I’ve decided to call them the Hansons. Hopefully they won’t wrap foil around their fins and bash new fish into the glass. All in all, I think my little ecosystem is off to a ‘swimming’ start (LOL, ROFL, ROFLPM!) and I’ll keep you updated when I add new citizens. Cornett, Jodice and Jim will be here in half an hour for the party pre-game – at which point the Hansons won’t be the only residents of the apartment up to their eyeballs in filthy liquids.

It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome Cole Thomas Peden into this crazy world of ours, and it’s a better planet for having him. Best wishes to Steve, Jen and their new family. “He’s honestly a wee miracle,” says the proud new Dad, and apparently Jen is taking to motherhood “like a duck to water”. I’m not sure quite how Steve is taking to it, but I’m going to use this opportunity to drop in my personal favorite “like a fat kid to a Smartie“.

He was born at 4pm on Valentine’s day, and weighed in at 7.7 lbs. I fully expect Cole to be running his own print shop by the time he’s old enough to fire his maiden paintball. Nice work, kids. I look forward to meeting/scaring the heck out of the little guy. Yes it’s true, babies love me. And be sure to click here for a Pye in the Face exclusive – Cole’s very first music video.

As you know, I’m throwing a Mardi Gras party this Saturday at Tiernans. Read my previous related article or visit the Evite for more information. I want to give everyone an update on some breaking special arrangements and surprises just in case you’re still on the fence about whether or not you plan to attend/binge drink.

First and foremost, the Corona girls are definitely coming. They’ll be running around in their skimpy little tanktops promoting Corona Lite and buying a whackload of it for party guests. They’ll also have giveaways, brand schwag and large breasts. In addition to my DJ who’ll be spinning from 9-2, a well known WBCN personality is coming down in the station’s Hummer to give away a bunch of very cool prizes and run some Mardi Gras themed contests. The station is also running 4 radio spots between now and then, billing the event as ‘WBCN & Corona’s Late Mardi Gras Bash’. I am billing the event as ‘Pye & WBCN & Corona’s Late Mardi Gras Bash’ since it was my goddamn idea, but who has time to be petty on a night like this is shaping up to be? I’ve been told that they’ve spent 10K on the event to date – so get your fast asses down there for a great time and some free goodies!

Janet sent me a photo of her sledding this past weekend up in Vermont. She looks like she’s having a great time, but I’ve been sledding a time or two in my life and can’t help but notice a few key elements seem to be missing here. I used to tear up Nashawtuc Hill in Concord with my Super GT Snow Racer. Damn straight. They called me ‘The Avalanche’. They also frequently called me “Hey big, drunk 16-year-old who is far too old to be sledding – you’re hurting our children”. Which I never thought was that catchy.

Now, if Janet had said to me instead that she’d been lying in a snowbank while up in Vermont, I wouldn’t take issue with this photo. Is this the training hill? Do they take a couple of dry runs across a parking lot before working their way up to an incline of some sort? Will they actually give her a sled next weekend? Yes, the sledding’s changed a lot since I was a lad. But not the drinking.