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That Chick At The Comic Book Store

@thatchickatthecomicbookstore / thatchickatthecomicbookstore.tumblr.com

You know my name, and ironicly my story.

Years ago I overheard (eavesdropped upon) a telephone conversation between a public parks official and a golf course owner.

Parks Official: No sir, you cannot

Parks Official: No. They are a protected species

Parks Official: You CANNOT shoot them

Parks Official: Or poison them, no. Or trap them

Parks Official: If you like, we can-- no, I'm it. I'm the ranking official here. There's nobody above me. My boss? You mean... the governor's office? Sure, I guess. Okay bye

After he hung up, he gave me this thousand-yard stare before answering my unvoiced question.

"There's a flock of flamingos at the 9th green disrupting golfers. He wanted permission to go out there with a shotgun and take care of matters, but sensed there might be... legal ramifications. So he called us."

I laughed. "Does that happen often?"

"Oh, we get calls like that a couple times a month."

Country clubs should be burned to the ground and their golf courses turned into community gardens i am 10000% serious

Was golf created for the sole purpose of hoarding ridiculously large amounts of land just to brag about how little they use it?

Repossess all golf courses and convert them into public parks.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

-Emily Dickinson

Happy Pride :)