one perk of being a writer is the writer’s salon.
Those evenings where us big-headed tweedy lads – and ladies – discuss matters of crucial import.
And at our last session, I brought us to a very interesting conclusion.
The topic was polar bears, inspired, amongst other things, by this German classic.
I queried the group whether we knew the colour of a polar bear’s poop.
In case you were unaware, it’s the usual colour, and this, I feel, is unacceptable.
Look. I don’t expect a panda bear to do black and white coloured business. That would be asking too much, but I must insist that polar bears poop whitely.
That’s a deal-breaker.
The Arctic is white.
Polar bears are white.
Polar bear poop should be white.
It’s no wonder the world is in the shocking state it’s in, if it can’t be bothered to make sure polar bear poop blends in with the background.
And from there, it’s but a short step to understanding why we keep lurching from one crisis to the next.
Back in the day, someone dropped the ball on the polar bears, and it’s all been downhill from there.
So next time you open up your newspaper, don’t get upset about all the bad news.
Just blame the bloody polar bears.
Although, to be fair, it was actually the teddy bears and their damn picnic that killed my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Smurfitt Delaney, that time he went to Sweden to see the king…
Chat soon,
Morgan
P.S. Does anybody know any good salons? I know a writer on the lookout for a new, less-judgmental one.
P.P.S. More Morgan? Get 2 of my books free here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter
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