ONCE PARDONED, THEY ARE GIVEN NEW IDENTITIES AND JOBS IN DISTANT CITIES: I live in a city famed, perhaps unfairly so, for its crime, its poverty, a game called moneyball played entirely by pencil-necked geeks on laptops in their mothers' basements, and its production of baggy-pants-wearing spendthrift pop-rappers who steal from Rick James. While I live in a more residential part, under no circumstances could it be called rural. With the windows open, we could borrow sugar from the neighbors without leaving the house, and recently the city decided to behead all of the trees on our street. Yet there we were this morning, Spacewoman and I, walking to the bus stop, when we encountered a pack of roving wild turkeys -- a male and five females. Have you ever seen a male wild turkey up close? It's big.
They reminded me of the famed Feral Parrots of Brooklyn, and also the Feral Parrots of Hyde Park, whose publicist sucks.
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