No Room for Superstition

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Today when I opened my garage door, I found an unpleasant thing. Lying on the driveway directly in front of my door was a dead black bird, missing its head, which had been presumably eaten by some sort of predator, or perhaps scavenger. If I were a superstitious person, who I am not, I probably would have seen this as some sort of bad omen, which I do not. Rather, all I see is that this poor bird is now dead, and for that bird it is a sad thing. However, for the creature that ate its head this tragedy was just another day of sustenance. That is all I see, and all I ever will see of this incident. It has no omen to it; nor will any ominous superstitious curse befall me because of it. No such nonsense has any reality for me at all, period. And because I personally refuse to believe in such an omen, then any curse implied by this kind of juxtaposition of death, can never touch me or have any kind of adverse effect on me. My very disbelief disables any power that superstitions have on others who do believe in such delusions.