For those who missed the memo, geese are greasy. Yep, oily, unctous, oleaginous or just plain old-fashioned greasy, that’s what geese are. Any questions?
Yes. If geese are greasy, then if a flying goose is struck by lightning, then does the lightning thereby become “greased” and therefore strike the ground quicker than it otherwise would have, or does the impediment of the goose’s body counteract the greasing sufficiently to cancel it out or even outweigh it, so that the lightning strikes at the same moment or perhaps later than it would have had there been no intervening goose?
(For those of you in the Puget Sound region):
And the only thing greasier than goose meat are the big, green, greasy turds they leave at the (formerly) public beaches and apartment complex ponds they take over, and then all the city or landlords can do is hire dogs and trainers to hoo-ray them away; but only herding breeds, since hunting breeds will bite them and the blighters are protected. I’ve opened the door of my apartment and there’s a fucking goose right there hissing at me.
Yes.
It’s got grove.
It’s got meaning.
Geese is the time,
is the place,
is the motion.
Geese is the way we are feeling
How do you cook them?
I see.
Well, you may be interested to know that once-migratory populations of Canada geese have settled here in the American south, taking short jaunts but always returning to their home ponds without following traditional migratory patterns.
Zooligists were baffled for some time, but then it was discovered that, being from Canada, these geese had unusually large left wings. As a result, they were flying in circles.
Paging Bertie Wooster . . .
*How do you feel when you marry your ideal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey
How do you feel when the bells begin to peal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey
Walking up the aisle, in a kind of daze
Do you get the wind up when the organ plays?
How do you feel when you marry your ideal
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey
How do you feel when the parson’s done the deal?
Ever so goosey, goosey, goosey, goosey*
Probably old enough to be in the public domain, 1920s or so
Ah, the wonders of the Canada goose!
It might interest you to know that through observation of this breed, I’ve determined they drop one of those turds approximately every two minutes. On a park lawn that may harbor two or three dozen of these birds, things can get very messy very quickly!
As a side note, Slithy, for some reason I’ve had your name running around in my mind for the past few days. Would you please come claim it and take it home?
Nice to know you’re in my neck o’ the woods. 
Another thing: If a Canada goose bites you, I pretty much guarantee you that no harm will come of it. It’s rather like getting bitten by a sock puppet. A sock puppet that slobbers. Copiously, at that.
Now, if one of those big white geese you occasionally see bites you, he’ll likely draw blood. They have saw blades for what passes as teeth.
I speak of both from experience.
What if it just gooses you?
The geese or the turds?
An old friend tried to talk me into bagging a couple of Canada geese (in season) in a city park for Christmas dinners. Thang Og I could dissuade him. A guy who kills a city park waterfowl becomes a horrible villian, even if everything is legal.
Duck.
Don’t cook the goose turds!
They’re for pate.
Good reason to keep a loaded Super Soaker by the door. =D
A young woman in a crowded elevator suddenly flinched and said, “I’ve been geesed!”
Her boyfriend said, “Don’t you mean goosed?”
“I can count.”
Greasey oily goose
Oleaginous goose grease
Goose grease is good grease
Ya know, I grew up eating goose for Christmas day dinner. The trick is in how you roast it. The skin must be pricked and poked continuously so that the grease will run out. It takes a lot of time and patience.
I’m also a Puget Sounder and those damn CGs are everywhere as is their poop.
What’s good for the goose is good for the grease.