Made with crap of non-bird origin purchased at Central Market: pan-roasted grouper with mango-ginger glaze and wasabi cream from a squeeze-bottle. Not pictured: dry-roasted peanut garnish.
Central Market used to be Austin’s megasuperstore answer to Whole Foods (Whole Foods itself having been the superstore answer to the mom-and-pop granola depot). Then Whole Foods built an ultramegasuperstore answer to Central Market. So now we’ve got megalosuperstores out the butt. If your life’s young dream is to choose between 46 varieties of Hotter Than Fuck Organic Lone Star Armadillo Willie Nelson Margarita Barbecue Outlaw Longhorn Peanuts, we’ve got ya covered.
Naturally I have digressed, this time before I even began.
I mention the Central Market, not to complain that nary a regular old dry-roasted peanut can be found within, but to gripe about the speakers they have on the roof that blare into the parking lot some kind of predatory bird squawk. This squawk is loud, agitated, and hostile.
No explanation for the anomaly is offered. My guess that it exists to amuse the employees–a bunch of sullen, alter-naytive youths with nose rings–who must get a big bang out of watching alarmed customers scan the horizon for the source of the preternatural racket, which could easily be ascribed by the uninitiated to a pterodactyl with a 20-foot wingspan.
What (as the saying goes) the fuck?
Reader JC, leaving a comment on yesterday’s post about the yard ornaments favored by those inhabitants of hippy-dippy South Austin who are unhampered in their thinking by current trends in aesthetic theory, sheds no light on this specific squawk-mystery. However, s/he reveals that recorded bird noises are not unique to megasuperstore gourmet markets with surfeits of stupid useless peanuts. Quoth JC:
"I design and build gardens in Sweden. The [kitschy yard ornaments] you depict would be so impossible in Sweden. Sweden mostly seems to embrace group working-class blandness or pretentious middle-class blandness.
But strange things happen even here, usually financed by taxes, sponsored by a cultural department, and created by a "culture worker" for the artistic enhancement of the proles’ environment. I personally am aggravated by the "artistic" enhancement of a little park outside our subway. TheyÂ´ve mounted speakers in the trees and play birdsong on a loop. The unnatural sound of bird twittering in the deep gloom of a Swedish winter day is pretty irritating, especially as the winter is extremely long and the real birds have all gone south for the winter or donÂ´t have much to sing about in their grim Darwinian winter struggle. During the rest of the year recorded birdsong is a pretty redundant effect. The birdsong loop is at times replaced by a monotone man’s voice reciting boring poetry, the irritating surrealistic effect of this particular sound from the trees is hard to convey."