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C+- < > Text Colours Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?
Give me ten minutes with that chicken and we'll find out.
I'm sorry, Ollie. I left the hen-house door open.
A chicken at rest remains at rest; a chicken in motion remains in
motion.
To boldly go where no hen has gone before.
The ideal chicken must ideally cross the ideal road. Therefore,
imperfect chickens in this world
cross imperfect roads, imperfectly.
Driven by the lash of economic necessity.
It is the essense of chickens to cross the road.
Those who cluck do not know.
To see what's out there.
It was a national security matter.
Oh, never mind that chicken. She's from Barcelona.
Because it's there.
The lions still roam the barranca
The telephone pole suggested a phallic symbol
and like all female creatures she wanted to be dominated.
The question admits of limitless answers, since
there is no one logocentric strategy of discourse that takes primacy
over all others.
This chicken problem has many depths, but all of them are equally
shallow.
She was a victim of the Jewish conspiracy.
She was a victim of the English Gnostic Drug Cartel conspiracy.
She was a victim of the Illuminati One World conspiracy.
She was a victim of the male conspiracy.
She was dazed and disoriented after the extra-terrestrials abducted
and genetically altered her.
Forty-two.
It was her True Will to cross just that road on just that day.
We made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
To kiss your skin, to lie with you in moonlight...
To impose a meaning upon her accidental existence.
Uncle Ike saw her first: just an ordinary chicken, he thought
for a moment, a chicken picking here and pecking there, gradually
working her way across the road toward the lawn; but then he
felt the fingers tighten on his arm and looked up, astounded, to see
him, the Colonel, eyes lit with a new fire, face
aglow like a saint seeing a vision: and then it was destiny, a thing
pre-ordained, a fatality, for the Colonel did not
reveal even to him, Uncle Ike, the secret ingredients, not the names
of the herbs and not even the number of
them, and so the secret of the crust remained, a hermetic mystery,
locked in the private places of the Colonel's soul: and yet
the vision was real, a true moment of Fate; for the franchises sold
almost as fast as they could slaughter and gut the
stock, and they spread across the country, across the civilized world,
making the Colonel not just a millionaire but a billionaire, and Uncle
Ike saw it all, knew it all, from the beginning to the day when the
initials KFC were
to be seen in every city, every town, every hamlet large enough to own
two mules and an Assembly of God church:
until now, standing in the shop in Jefferson, Yoknapatawpha County,
where Flem Snopes, the bank president, hawked and coughed and spat on
the floor, then hoisted his britches, country style, and said to the
waitress, "Extra crispy, please."
To leave the place she knew for another place And to stay there for a
while
Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken
depends upon the inertial system of the observer.
To ask this question denies your own chicken nature.
It was the next step after coming down from the trees.
All hens are endowed by Nature and Nature's God
with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of the other side.
I sent a hen through the astral plane To learn our future, and man's
luck, And by a by the bird returned
But all she'd say was "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"
It was not merely that the chicken crossed the road, Watson, but that
the three Russian midgets and the Italian oboe player did not also
cross.
When the emperor performs the rites with full reverence,
and the court officers behave as true scholars and gentlemen, a hen
may cross any road in the kingdom safely.
The fuckin chicken crossed the fuckin road, okay? No problem, okay?
To die. In the rain.
To escape the crawling horror lurking on this side of the road, a
nameless and foetid monstrosity that cannot be conceived save in the
dreams of madness.
There was no chicken, no road, no crossing. There was only an
interpretation.
This Department recalls the distasteful incident
of the Chainsaw Subliminals -- World falling -- Photo falling --
Breakthrough in hen yard -- Towers open fire --
A few may get through to the Gate in Time --
She was seduced by the dark side of the road.
She had beady inhuman eyes like strange black jewels and the kind of
feathers a bird of paradise
might envy. I knew that if they made her a free-range chicken she'd
take off and never look back.
I will consider my hen, Brigit,
Why, let us feather our brutish nests
Mrs. Hahn, Cock's wife, flapflopped from an ova eggspressed (one
l'ouvre, end sot)
I will not use a chicken as a frisbee. I will not use a chicken as a
frisbee. I will not use a chicken as a frisbee. I will not use...
Nostradamus predicted chicken/UFO horror!
I ate her liver. With fava beans. C+- < > Text Colours | ||||
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