Tuesday, August 02, 2005


Who are these people who keep livestock in the city? No good can come of this.

This very morning, I saw a chick-chick-chicken chickening out near Wilshire. What the cluck? There was an accident nearby. Perhaps the chicken had escaped from the wreckage via the jaws of life to cluck and peck in the vicinity? I hope she had just stepped out of her yard momentarily to survey the neighborhood grub population. I almost considered picking her up, except:
1) what was I going to do with a chicken? Take her to work,
  a) flapping, and
  b) clucking, on the back of my bike...? Put her in my apartment?!
2) what would my cats do with a chicken? Would I come home at the end of the day and say, "OK. Who won...?" (I suspect, the chicken.) No.
3) If I'm late to work again because of a chicken, I'm gonna get sh*tcanned for sure.

Sadly, this is not the first Chicken Incident.

My aunt tells a humorous story about being awakened by a chicken 1) flapping and 2) clucking on her carport in Houston. It lives in infamy.

Growing up, the girl next door had a hot dog-pecking & eating chicken. I'm thinking one of those could be plenty useful. It could be an attack chicken for any unwelcome exposed male genitals. Then, you could use the chicken guano to fertilize your lawn. (It's organic!)

Also, when Cranky had his old beater car, and when he couldn't find parking, he would drive to an outlying area near the highway exit ramp known as ChickenLand because the ethnic families there keep chickens even though they are in the middle of fucking Los Angeles.

Unfortunately, sometimes cars would come speeding off the 101 without looking for loose livestock (drivers in Los Angeles never even look for pedestrians), as there was no chicken crossing, and sometimes a car + a chicken 1) flapping, and 2) clucking = Car: 1, Chicken: 0.

This pisses me off. I do not need to be starting my day by seeing a wasted (not even twirling on the fun rotisserie = ferris wheel for carcass) pollo NOT 1) flapping or 2) clucking, in the road, in the inner city. So fuck you, urban keepers of chickens! Unless you keep your chickens inside, with your house pets (I do not notice my lease explicitly prohibiting live poultry), then...

I'll cock-a-doodle YOUR doo.

P.S. Fuck you, Carl's, Jr. Chickens are TOO good for lots of things.

What do you think is typing this blog?

Nice keyboard-pecking chicken...nice, nice.


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