Here's an alcoholic monkey and parrot from a c. 1890 ad for luncheon meat.

Monkey versus parrot: which would you wager to win?  Plus, here's some maledicta from a c. 1890 ad for luncheon meat.

They say that everybody has a novel inside them, but that's patently false.  If you don't have a novel inside you, there may at least be an article that inspires someone else's novel.

We're gobsmacked that our groundbreaking research into the relationship between pirates and parrots ("Buccaneer Birds and Parrots of the Caribbean," first published in Amercian Cage-Bird Magazine, March 1993) went on to be an inspiration for acclaimed author Gary Barwin's novel that's narrated by a parrot pirate, Yiddish for Pirates.  This qualifies as a Retroactive Lifetime Goal (phrase used courtesy of literary humorist Jonathan Caws-Elwitt).

Unrelated except in the sense of the Barwinism that underlies all that we see and hear, Gary Barwin has dreamily transformed our recording for the Poet Laureate of Calgary, in which we set to clockwork music the punctuation of an otherwise-erased page from Andy Warhol's a: A Novel.  Here's an mp3 of the otherworldly Barwinian transformation:

From The Cub yearbook of New Bern High School, 1921.

A parrot as a medium:  an illustration from a 1906 issue of The Idler magazine.  The caption reads: "'Are there any spirits here to-night?' asked the butler."  This should be of interest: Seance Parlor Feng Shui.

A caged parrot is in one room, a microwave oven in another.  

The microwave emits a beep every thirty seconds...

alerting the fact that it still holds a cup of reheated coffee.  

The parrot mimics each beep in turn, a forlorn whistle to a distant stranger.  

Two-second expressions of loneliness and abandonment...

Like bio-mechanical clockwork.

Something was left here... it's getting cold.

deep beneath the feathers, dwells a consciousness intact
memories of amazon, the jungle world of past

dwelling in this northern clime, a solitary life
a solitary parrot, lonely quiet for its plight

humans come and humans go, but they make no impression
daydreams in the silence, as time makes its own progression

but something in the here and now, is calling for attention
another room, a microwave, demanding intervention

(beep beep) i'm signaling
(beep beep) is any-one there
(beep beep) i'm waiting waiting
(beep beep) does any-one care

(beep beep) i've done my duty
(beep beep) i've made it hot
(beep beep) the time's increasing
(beep beep) the heat is not

what is that motion, deep in the parrot musing
something touching time and

what is that calling, beyond the jungle daydream,
signals hinting meaning

an urgent message, something has been forgotten
something losing heat and

i feel connected, i feel a newborn kinship
calling, begging for re-sponse

microwave with parroting, a consciousness intact
looping forward endlessly, a symbiotic pact

combined they trigger something, unexpected ringing true
it starts to gain momentum, with the power to renew

re-verberating outward, waves vibrating form a core
flowing out into a world, not knowing what's in store