I say, I say as subtle as grenade in a bowl of oatmeal: I've had some wingding cockamamie thoughts that ran circles in my brain and calling a suicide prevention line was one of the best decisions this cock-a-doodle-doo ever made. I know I'm not the only one who thought taking permanent action to a temporary problem was an answer and my message is the proof in the pudding. The fat lady hasn't sang yet and this car still has some miles on it, so here's the story about how I thought I was going to punch out on the clock in regards to life on this spinning rock.

Now, now, I'm sure my death note would make as much sense as a short skirt in a high wind: In the eyes of many I was taking out two birds with one stone, but at the end of the day I still remained without a pot to piss in. Little did people know I've been shooting myself in the foot and it has all been downhill ever since this rooster flew the coop to engage in nonstop tomfoolery for a living.

I say, I say, I wished in one hand, pooped in the other, and all I got was pie in the face. Like lipstick on a pig, I even thought about performing my final fool's errand on myself… tucking my last words in an envelope beneath my wing before I bit the big one and met my maker.

Now, now before I thought I was near the end of my rope and contemplated getting off this rollercoaster ride, I used to think shrinks, quacks, and voodoo shamans were knuckleheads that were all tricks with no treats because I didn't know any better. Thankfully, Tweety Bird kept his ear to the ground when it came to my problems because that canary knows life ain't all sunshine and rainbows. Tweety Bird knew I was sitting on the tracks as a train was coming through, so he gave me some of his references for help because he's got quite a few skeletons in the closet in that big ol' bird brain of his for sure.

Long, I say, long story short: Lost at sea, Tweety Bird was my lighthouse, a little bobblehead angel in disguise, a feathered yellow life preserver who kept me afloat. Hopefully you catch my drift and shoot my breeze—if you know what I'm saying.

Ya see this rooster ain't no chicken, but I have tucked my tail between my legs for too long when it comes to confronting my own demons.

Now, now I understand it's hard to pull life up by the bootstraps when you're two sheets to the wind, but there nothing wrong with getting a helping hand if you're on the shit end of the stick. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink. So if you know someone buying an anvil that isn't for a roadrunner… it might be time to ask them if they're on the straight and narrow or if they need a-talkin' to about mental health.

The meat, the meat and potatoes of what I'm saying here is give a man a fish, he'll be fed for a day… but teach a man to fish he'll be fed for a lifetime. I know my message isn't worth diddley squat at the bank, but self-harm is monkey business—that isn't even for the birds. I know I'm looney, but there's nothing funny about having negative tunes in your head while enjoying this funny farm we call life.


And now a quick joke...

My mom says I shouldn’t write because I get confused too often. Like ok, what does she know? All she does is sulk, like Eeyore from The Little Mermaid.