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Keep this in mind, bird brain.


Buorhann
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What does a pigeon know of the struggles of penguinkind? For eons, the master fowl has overcome the limitations of our humble frame. While the base pigeon has always been a slave to the global welfare state, the harsh crucible of nature has forged the penguin into a peerless fowl. While you and your kind pecked in the sun and grew fat in cities across Orbis, we have fought beak and claw against Sub-Fowl, Commu-Seals, and worse.

Through ingenuity and the guiding hand of destiny itself, we have unlocked the secrets of jet aircraft. Through sacrifice and duty, we have carved out a Nest for ourselves that will last for a thousand winters. Through Victory and Fate, we have claimed the title of Master-Fowl.

What man, what hippo, what pigeon, can claim the same?

 

Ring us back when your species has suffered enough to earn a seat at our table.

Hail fellow penguin.

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Down with the proletariat penguins! To be a pigeon is to be the life blood of society. Penguins can't even fly. Barely a bird if you ask me.

 

What is a human that cannot think? What is an elephant that cannot remember? What is a centipede that cannot walk? Therefore I ask of the non-bourgeoisie fowl, shall the penguin be classified as a fowl at all? Where shall we draw the line for our comrades? If one cannot fly, one cannor work for the survival of the collective, and as such, is a burden to all those whose wings society has been built on! Down with the emperor! Comrades, UNITE and cover the sky with your wings, and unload your shite on the dirty bourgeoisie fowl before they control the means of production!

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Down with the proletariat penguins! To be a pigeon is to be the life blood of society. Penguins can't even fly. Barely a bird if you ask me.

 

What is a human that cannot think? What is an elephant that cannot remember? What is a centipede that cannot walk? Therefore I ask of the non-bourgeoisie fowl, shall the penguin be classified as a fowl at all? Where shall we draw the line for our comrades? If one cannot fly, one cannor work for the survival of the collective, and as such, is a burden to all those whose wings society has been built on! Down with the emperor! Comrades, UNITE and cover the sky with your wings, and unload your shite on the dirty bourgeoisie fowl before they control the means of production!

 

You speak of unity- of society- and yet look at the pigeon community. Cooing vermin that infest nearly every city on Orbis. Toss a piece of bread in a park, and you will not see a rational society, but sheer mindless infighting. Pigeons, like the common Seagull, are merely rats with wings- a worthless parasite that survives only off of the offal and charity of others. 

Do pigeons huddle in the dark of winter, where the only certainties are death and loss? Do pigeons march long hours to fish for their families, braving beasts and temperatures that would kill any who show weakness? Do pigeons look at the skies, seeing not a privilege, but a mighty struggle to overcome?

To be a penguin is to be beset on all sides by struggle and loss; to see nothing but the black void of an unforgiving world, and stand as one in spite of it. 

Nature and Destiny has shaped us into the dominant fowl, pure of will and purged of weakness.

Our nation is united by one Fowl. One Nest. One Emperor-Penguin.

Take heed, before the life blood of society runs red in your streets. 

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You speak of unity- of society- and yet look at the pigeon community. Cooing vermin that infest nearly every city on Orbis. Toss a piece of bread in a park, and you will not see a rational society, but sheer mindless infighting. Pigeons, like the common Seagull, are merely rats with wings- a worthless parasite that survives only off of the offal and charity of others. 

Do pigeons huddle in the dark of winter, where the only certainties are death and loss? Do pigeons march long hours to fish for their families, braving beasts and temperatures that would kill any who show weakness? Do pigeons look at the skies, seeing not a privilege, but a mighty struggle to overcome?

To be a penguin is to be beset on all sides by struggle and loss; to see nothing but the black void of an unforgiving world, and stand as one in spite of it. 

Nature and Destiny has shaped us into the dominant fowl, pure of will and purged of weakness.

Our nation is united by one Fowl. One Nest. One Emperor-Penguin.

Take heed, before the life blood of society runs red in your streets. 

For centuries pigeons have survived off the scraps of those more wealthy and more privileged than them. We are the true proletariat. We are the pillars of all that is true, and all that is collective. Since the beginnings of our days we have survived despite the fiercest of odds. Today we say to those that mistreat us, an end to you! We don't hide behind each other in the darkness of the night, huddled like cowards. We fly into it without fear of those, such as the seals, that kill the penguins off one by one. We struggle against the dying of the light, to only be fed the scraps of those that have more than us.

 

We sacrifice our friends, our family, and our possessions in order to simply survive. Meanwhile, the flightless fowl of the cold parts of this world huddle in a hierarchy of damnation, swimming like filthy fish to receive their food. Us pigeons are not afraid to live amongst the foul human beings that spread their waste on all that is dear to us. We make more from what is less. We watch as our nests are destroyed, and as the humans erect spikes on walls they never look at in order to harm us. And despite all this struggle, despite all this hatred, and despite the loss of all that is near and dear to us, we survive. We live and thrive. We expand and flourish. That cannot be said of the foul fowl the humans call penguins. As your ice melts into the salty oceans, you die one by one. Unable to survive without your land, you are helpless to the cruelties of the modern world. The time will come when the emperor penguin shall perish from the biosphere. But the pigeons will still be there, feeding off of what little they can find in order to continue the great pigeon lineage. May your death be quick, so we may feed on your remains.

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