Sometimes I go out on to our porch and gaze up at the blazing night sky, or, more accurately, a tenement staircase blocking the view of the sky. After thoroughly inspecting my seat for pigeon shit and the floorboards above me for dog urine, I sit down to muse over the big questions: what are some good topics for blog posts, and why is there a Cinderella record stapled to our fence?

And sometimes in these moments mother nature hands you a gift.  Today, for instance, I found a couple of pigeon eggs nestled beneath our water heater. I think we can all agree that pigeons are some of the foulest, most diabolical creatures on God’s green earth. I bet not even their babies are cute. The question at hand is, what should we do about the eggs?

Personally I’d like to speed along Darwinism, but maybe that’s not fair. Maybe we should vote on it, and give those pigeons a chance, this being America and all.

Early thoughts:

-Sneak them into Mike Tyson’s omlet

-Market to Whole Foods as eco-urban fresh-foraged niche product

-Pigeon-egg Arnold’s hummer.

Frankly I don’t really want to touch them because their mother keeps giving me crazy eyes whenever I go near. But if you have thoughts, do pass them along.