Contrails - Top Secret Government Conspiracy, or Vapor Trails?

I had quite the aviary day today. The first bit of aviary reckoning came at the golf course this morning, while I was sitting quietly in my cart, gathering my thoughts while the others in my threesome practiced their putting and driving. I had purchased a practice bucket of balls that contained precisely 17 balls. I figured hitting 17 balls would give me a pretty good idea of how I was going to strike the balls during the game. To hit any more would be simply garish, as far as I was concerned. I also practiced my putting for about ten minutes. After eight and a half minutes, I knew my putting was not going to get any better. I would only sweat more and might be put in the position to incur some sort of freakish injury, like "putters wrist" or the inevitable pulling of the hammy.

So I sat in the golf cart, gathering my thoughts and watching the birds.

Sitting in the cart, I noticed that wave after wave of birds flying in formation passed overhead, in five to ten second intervals. At first, I simply watched, thinking back on an acid trip where I had seen a great rolling wave of birds flying overhead at dusk, resembling a great dark river in the sky. Then, however, I began to realize that this was some sort of organized flight plan and was reminded of the air support required of D-Day, when squadron after squadron left France, or England or someplace and flew over the English Channel to "soften up" the beaches for the Allied landing. Things went haywire and I think weather played a part, but research has never been my strong point and things worked out alright. We grew up brave and free and not Nazis, so bravo veterans of WWII and D-Day for your efforts. And by the way, I love the term "Softening Up". Dropping a few thousand tons of explosives on an enemy fortication will certainly soften up a landing area. Again, bravo to those who thought to call it "softening up" - pure genius. I would like to think that it was thought up by some forward-thinking generals in the days of the Brad Pitt or Russell Crowe topless adventure-movies with their long-bow archers. Same idea, only with explosions. And tops. Anyhow, I place full blame for a lackluster round of golf on the winged devil - it's only right.

But I digress.

A semi-accurate representation of what flew overhead. Thanks, Google.

A complicated chart reflecting the heiarchy of bird flight. You're welcome.



The second phase of my aviary enlightenment came while Taggart and I were enjoying a leisurely refreshing dip in the pool after the round of golf with cold beverages. Somehow, with reasoning only understood by God, those who divine the fates of fools and thieves and the brittle mind of Mike Taggart, Mike began to relate a conversation he had overheard in the parking lot at work declaring that contrails (the vapor trails left behind high-flying aircraft) were no more than an intricate plan of the government to sprinkle some sort of mind-control mist over the land. Or to control the weather.

I laughed, thinking he was joking. "Oh, I thought it was bullshit, too," he said, gaining a valuable foothold of respect. "But I saw this show..." Taggart shattered any semblance of believability with this follow-up sentence.

"What the hell," I guffawed. "What is this - Area 52?" "'Agent Puffy White'," he countered. "Google it," he said, his face a mask of seriousness.

"Shut up," I said, and we went for lunch. The idea of a government incapable of running our foodstamp program efficiently concocting a far-reaching mind-control plan seemed unimaginable. And if we had the ability to control the weather, wouldn't we simply make everywhere San Diego, only without the outrageous prices and San Diegian attitudes? Just sayin'...

And if I am wrong about all this and it is a government conspiracy, can we arrange it so that my pool remains this temperature year-round? Because it is absolutely perfect right now. Thank you in advance.