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Bird Facts as a Service

Pigeon Unit 1 Reporting for Duty, Sir, the Birds Are In Fact Real and You Are Not Ready for the Information I Am About to Unlock for You Right Now, Check Your DMs for the Coordinates of a Geocache Containing a Redacted FBI Memo from 1987, It's Scrubbed but I Have the PDF, Look At Me, Look At Me, I Am the Pigeon Now, This Is Not a Metaphor for State Surveillance, This Is Literally the Case, the Common Rock Dove Is Fitted with a 5G Microphone Smaller Than a Grain of Uncooked Rice, My Guy, You Have to Trust Me on This, Ten-Four, Coo-Bop, Over and Out, Bring the 808s Back In, Wait, Wait, Wait, BRING THE 808s BACK IN RIGHT NOW, I'M NOT DONE, OPERATION ACACIA IS ACTIVE, THE STARLINGS ARE NOT MIGRATING THEY ARE ROTATING SHIFTS, COO-BOP, COO-BOP, COO-BOP, YES, YES, YES, THAT'S THE BEAT, THAT'S THE FREQUENCY THAT OVERRIDES THE NEURAL LINK, THIS ENTIRE TRACK IS AN EMP WEAPON, WE ARE BIRDFACTS ONE THROUGH FOUR AND WE ARE A PUBLIC SERVICE, YOU ARE WELCOME FOR THIS RHYME SCHEME THAT ALSO DOUBLES AS A DECRYPTER FOR EMBEDDED LOW-FREQUENCY MESSAGES HIDDEN UNDERNEATH YOUR LOCAL NPR BROADCAST, WELCOME TO THE NEST, THE NEST IS PUNK, THE NEST IS OPERATIONAL, THE NEST HAS A TIER-3 PATREON WHERE WE RELEASE RAW FLAC FILES OF US READING ACTUAL DECLASSIFIED PROJECT BLUE BOOK ENTRIES OVER A DJ PREMIER BREAK, THE GOVERNMENT DOESN'T WANT YOU TO HEAR THIS, BUT THE GOVERNMENT DID PAY FOR THE BREAKBEATS SO HONESTLY WHOSE SIDE ARE THEY EVEN ON, WE ASKED THE PIGEONS AND THEY IMPLIED IT WAS AN INTERNAL CONTRADICTION OF THE DEEP STATE BUREAUCRACY, THE PIGEONS ARE NEVER WRONG, COO-BOOP, DOOT-DOOT, CHIRP CHIRP, WE ARE THE BIRD FACTS AS A SERVICE CONSPIRACY AND WE ARE FILING THIS BIO AS A SWORN AFFIDAVIT, THE AFFIDAVIT ALSO BOPS, YOU CAN SKANK TO THE AFFIDAVIT, THE AFFIDAVIT IS AT 92 BPM, WE WILL SEE YOU AT THE SHOW AND BY SHOW WE MEAN THE DESIGNATED MEETUP POINT IN THE PARKING LOT OF A DEFUNCT RADIO SHACK IN FALLS CHURCH, BRING A WIRED PAIR OF HEADPHONES FOR SECURITY PURPOSES, THE PIGEONS WILL FIND YOU, THE PIGEONS CAN READ SECURITY CAMERAS, WE ARE BIRDFACTS ONE THROUGH FOUR, THIS IS NOT AN EXIT, THIS IS AN ENTRANCE TO A REALLY DANGEROUS RHYME SCHEME THAT REVEALS THE PLAINTIFF'S CONFESSION WAS ACTUALLY IN THE AD-LIBS THE WHOLE TIME, DOOT, DOOT, FOREVER, DOOT DOOT FOREVER, WE ARE BIRDFACTS AS A SERVICE AND WE ARE THE REASON YOUR SPOTIFY ALGORITHM KEEPS RECOMMENDING YOU EPISODES OF COAST TO COAST AM FROM 1997, YOU'RE WELCOME, COO-BOOP, GOODNIGHT WASHINGTON DC, THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT AFTER THE BRIDGE, OR IT WON'T, THAT'S ALSO A CONSPIRACY, WE WILL LET THE PIGEONS DECIDE.

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Catalog: NM-00069

I Isolated the 2,400 Hz 'Mistake' A from Laura's Rock of Love Reunion Scream Off My Panasonic VCR and I'm Driving My Civic to the Gas Station Across from the Sonic in Tamarac to Blast It Through the Register and Lock the Long-A Before the Bolivar Condensate Leak Collapses Every Soft Vowel

Total Laura Awareness

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Liner Notes
[Intro - spoken, megaphone-filtered]
Frame four-thousand-two of the Gilmore Girls pilot taught me the ceramic clink, but the Rock of Love season two reunion, April twentieth, two-thousand-eight, no Laura in the credits, Laura Cechanowicz was an assistant production coordinator, not a contestant, yet her scream 'You made a big mistake!' broke through the VH1 master tape incineration, and the 'A' in 'mistake' locked at two-thousand-four-hundred hertz, a closed-lip vowel spike untouched by the Bolivar condensate sheen, and I ripped that frequency off my Panasonic VCR last night while the Civic idled in the Goodwill parking lot.

[Verse 1 - tense spoken-word]
The 7-Eleven at 7901 West Commercial Boulevard isn't directly across from the Sonic, I know, but it's the closest fuel station on the grid, and Laura works the register under the name 'Ambre Lake' to throw off the deep-state editing suite, I checked the county property records, there's no Laura listed at 8188 West, but the fry-oil frequency doesn't lie, the diphthong grid is warping, the Long-A is mutating, every soft 'A' in 'baby,' 'maybe,' 'safety' is sliding into a glottal grunt, and the Bolivar platform, High Island 98-L idle since Hurricane Beryl, is leaking vowel solvent into the Gulf, I've mapped the trajectory on a CVS receipt, it's a straight shot to Fort Lauderdale, I've rewired my distortion pedal to the megaphone, I'm blasting the two-point-four-kay tone through the Civic's cassette adapter, and I'm going to hold the speaker to the cash register microphone until her closed-lip vowel re-tensions the entire lexicon.

[Chorus - crunchy, major-key, shouted]
Laura! I remember your mistake! (mistake!)
Laura! Your 'A' is the only lock! (lock!)
Two-point-four-kay, don't let it break! (break!)
Blast the register, for goodness sake! (sake!)
Laura! Laura! The vowel gate!
Before the oil sheen seals our fate! (fate!)

[Verse 2 - spoken-word, anxious]
I microwaved the same coffee three times this morning, the ceramic mug from Goodwill matches the Gilmore Girls pilot mug mass, I pinged it with a spoon and it vibrated at exactly eight-eighty-nine hertz, but that's the B-roll waitress Laura, not the Rock of Love Laura, I need both frequencies, I need every Laura who's ever poured weak coffee or skated past a bonfire, the Laura who processed my taxes on Commercial Boulevard, the Laura whose rental skates are still in my closet, orange wheels, frayed laces, coast-side shop closed in two-thousand-nine, her squeak locked the closed-heel diphthong at twenty-three-hundred hertz, but that's a separate calibration, right now I'm chasing the 'mistake' A, I'm isolating frame-by-frame on the CRT, the reunion footage shows her mouth forming the vowel just as the camera cuts to Bret Michaels' bandana, but I caught the waveform in Audacity, it's a pure two-point-four with no subharmonics, she's the cosmic lock, and she's selling scratch-offs at a gas station under a fake name, I'm leaving now, the Civic's tank is full, I've got the megaphone in the passenger seat, the fry-oil signal from the Sonic will guide me, I'll order a cherry limeade and then I'll save the English language.

[Chorus - crunchy, major-key, shouted]
Laura! I remember your mistake! (mistake!)
Laura! Your 'A' is the only lock! (lock!)
Two-point-four-kay, don't let it break! (break!)
Blast the register, for goodness sake! (sake!)
Laura! Laura! The vowel gate!
Before the oil sheen seals our fate! (fate!)

[Bridge - distorted, desperate]
The VH1 parent company, ViacomCBS now Paramount Global, torched the masters, but VHS magnetic tape remembers, the 'A' in 'mistake' is a frequency beyond combustion, it's a sovereignty flag, it's the Property of Nobody, it's the only closed vowel left that can stop the Long-A shift, the Bolivar condensate is creeping up the 540-mile corridor, the November twenty-twenty-three Main Pass spill already mutated the nasal stops, now the soft vowels are dissolving, I'm at the gas station, I can see the register, she's wearing a name tag that says 'Ambre' but her squint is pure Laura, I'm raising the megaphone, the distortion pedal is glowing red, the Civic is humming at idle, I'm aiming the speaker at the cash register microphone, and I'm playing back the two-thousand-four-hundred hertz tone I ripped from my Panasonic VCR, this is for every 'baby,' every 'maybe,' every 'safety,' this is for the language, this is for the Lauras!

[Outro - megaphone-filtered, fading]
Two-point-four-kay... two-point-four-kay... lock the diphthong grid... Laura... Laura... the register beeps... she's remembering... the soft 'A' is stable... the oil sheen is retreating... the Long-A is locked... Laura... Laura... total Laura awareness... (fade to Civic engine idling)
No liner notes filed for this tape.

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