Thinking about peacocks.

We went to the Brookfield Zoo this past weekend. The peacocks were majorly showing off—this guy here, for instance. I won’t bore you with all the synapses that fired to get me here, but he reminded me of this part of this song, My Conviction, from the rock musical Hair. I love that it doesn’t rhyme, by the way.

I would just like to say that it is my conviction
That longer hair and other flamboyant affectations
Of appearance are nothing more
Than the male’s emergence from his drab camouflage
Into the gaudy plumage
Which is the birthright of his sex.

There is a peculiar notion that elegant plumage
And fine feathers are not proper for the male
When aaaaaaaaaaaac-tually
That is the way things are
In most species.

If you don’t know the tune, the words are still fun. If you do, then I’ve probably just stuck it in your head. Hehehe.

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