the lowly status of chicken
being a chicken sucks.
i'm not speaking of guys who are too intimidated by their own happiness to approach a girl in a bar. i'm speaking about the bird that finds its way into countless deep-fat fryers, bread-crumb batters and cordon-bleus.
let's put ourselves into the mind of a chicken. let's also disregard the fact that this chicken probably lack the consciousness necessary to contemplate the existential emptiness of its own miserable existence.
as a chicken, we tend to have way too many roommates. think about your college dorm room, and how crowded it was. now add about 9 other humans. yea. the logistics of living comfortably in this situation are almost not worth debating. who moved my eggs? am i certain this is the right nest? are they going to open a damn window? these are just a few of the unanswered questions a chicken is faced with every day.
as a chicken, our entire lives are dictated by another animal. live. breed. procreate. die. we are lucky to experience two of those four things, and even the few experiences we do have are not very pleasant. my current girlfriend has a misshapen beak, but when farmer jerkface locks us in a cage for two days, the only thing to keep me from going insane is to take a deep breath and fertilize some eggs. after that ordeal i don't even get to meet my kids. that hairy, sweaty human comes in and steals our children before they even hatch. even if i can get over this horrible fact, i have to live with the idea that everything i create is taken away. except, of course, my excrement, which is left here for days before being cleaned. not a very fair trade, but life is not meant to be fair. this is clearly evident when we are taken to the big machine room and mechanically separated from ourselves to feed so many gluttonous mammals across the globe.
the only redeeming factor in our pitiful lives is that our flavor is brought up so frequently. ok back to human form.
surely a disturbing thought but completely true. how many times have you heard that something tastes like chicken? quite a bit i presume. it may be more prevalent in the united states of america, but whenever one dines on less-common flesh one finds themselves thinking about the last chicken dinner they devoured. in a country where a more common meal involves a snake or lemur, the utterance may be nonexistent, or even reversed when someone finally tries the illustrious bird they've heard such great things about. i've tried a few different animals during various meals, and i've never found myself thinking "hey this tastes like alligator" except when i was actually eating barbecued alligator. quite delicious, but i began thinking that if it reminds me so much of very tender chicken i should have avoided the extra cost and just went with chicken in the first place. well the human desire to experience life to the fullest is strong. so i ate alligator. go cry about it.
i'm not speaking of guys who are too intimidated by their own happiness to approach a girl in a bar. i'm speaking about the bird that finds its way into countless deep-fat fryers, bread-crumb batters and cordon-bleus.
let's put ourselves into the mind of a chicken. let's also disregard the fact that this chicken probably lack the consciousness necessary to contemplate the existential emptiness of its own miserable existence.
as a chicken, we tend to have way too many roommates. think about your college dorm room, and how crowded it was. now add about 9 other humans. yea. the logistics of living comfortably in this situation are almost not worth debating. who moved my eggs? am i certain this is the right nest? are they going to open a damn window? these are just a few of the unanswered questions a chicken is faced with every day.
as a chicken, our entire lives are dictated by another animal. live. breed. procreate. die. we are lucky to experience two of those four things, and even the few experiences we do have are not very pleasant. my current girlfriend has a misshapen beak, but when farmer jerkface locks us in a cage for two days, the only thing to keep me from going insane is to take a deep breath and fertilize some eggs. after that ordeal i don't even get to meet my kids. that hairy, sweaty human comes in and steals our children before they even hatch. even if i can get over this horrible fact, i have to live with the idea that everything i create is taken away. except, of course, my excrement, which is left here for days before being cleaned. not a very fair trade, but life is not meant to be fair. this is clearly evident when we are taken to the big machine room and mechanically separated from ourselves to feed so many gluttonous mammals across the globe.
the only redeeming factor in our pitiful lives is that our flavor is brought up so frequently. ok back to human form.
surely a disturbing thought but completely true. how many times have you heard that something tastes like chicken? quite a bit i presume. it may be more prevalent in the united states of america, but whenever one dines on less-common flesh one finds themselves thinking about the last chicken dinner they devoured. in a country where a more common meal involves a snake or lemur, the utterance may be nonexistent, or even reversed when someone finally tries the illustrious bird they've heard such great things about. i've tried a few different animals during various meals, and i've never found myself thinking "hey this tastes like alligator" except when i was actually eating barbecued alligator. quite delicious, but i began thinking that if it reminds me so much of very tender chicken i should have avoided the extra cost and just went with chicken in the first place. well the human desire to experience life to the fullest is strong. so i ate alligator. go cry about it.
posted by incrediblemoo at
9:29 AM
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