Kevin's Watch

Excellent SBG!

Trapper439 wrote:
Elfgirl: Here's my depiction of a deliciously bad rooster.

heh.



THIS chicken crosses roads with a jet pack...

i miss this thread.

I do too! deep sigh....

Joseph Conrad: Looking back, I can only guess as to why the chicken crossed the road. Was it something inside him, something flawed, doomed; something searching - impossibly - both outward and inward, seeking to find that which is necessarily unfindable in his own heart - in all our hearts? Was it some terrible knowledge of the "truth of things" which he'd gleaned from his years with the wild chickens - beyond the civilizing reach of coop and farm? When the native purser arrived at my stateroom and uttered his now famous words, "Mr. Chicken - he crossed the road," I remember feeling relief. Yes, relief. Not surprise. Not sadness. Not horror. Word spread quickly enough. Soon some of the other gentlemen on the riverboat gathered at the topdeck table, around the kerosene lantern, under a sky as black and as endless as the chicken's road. I sensed relief in them as well. And it hit me, as I lit my pipe - with trembling hand, if you must know - that we none of us could afford to go further, to hear any more of Mr. Chicken's unsettling chirping, as we might ourselves be tempted to cross our own roads. Suddenly, the night became immense. The cries of the monkeys in the vines along the far banks became deafeningly shrill. The paddling of the riverboat became like the beating of a heart, a heart of darkness.

Bloodguard Bob: The fish were biting, duh! Didn't you see the cool ass fishing pole that chicken was sporting? Man, I wish I had one like that.

danlo wrote:Joseph Conrad: Looking back, I can only guess as to why the chicken crossed the road. Was it something inside him, something flawed, doomed; something searching - impossibly - both outward and inward, seeking to find that which is necessarily unfindable in his own heart - in all our hearts? Was it some terrible knowledge of the "truth of things" which he'd gleaned from his years with the wild chickens - beyond the civilizing reach of coop and farm? When the native purser arrived at my stateroom and uttered his now famous words, "Mr. Chicken - he crossed the road," I remember feeling relief. Yes, relief. Not surprise. Not sadness. Not horror. Word spread quickly enough. Soon some of the other gentlemen on the riverboat gathered at the topdeck table, around the kerosene lantern, under a sky as black and as endless as the chicken's road. I sensed relief in them as well. And it hit me, as I lit my pipe - with trembling hand, if you must know - that we none of us could afford to go further, to hear any more of Mr. Chicken's unsettling chirping, as we might ourselves be tempted to cross our own roads. Suddenly, the night became immense. The cries of the monkeys in the vines along the far banks became deafeningly shrill. The paddling of the riverboat became like the beating of a heart, a heart of darkness.

Danlo my friend, you missed your calling!!! mahvelous!

danlo, that was fantastic! I swear my signature is in no way related to your post.

...sorry, I'm not that good> lifted it from some joke site (thought the guy who wrote it was a flippin' genius!)...but y'all will make me try to try much harder in the future...in any case I dedicate that one to SRD!!!!

Judge Judy: Do you honestly think I'm going to sit here and listen to why you crossed that road? You crossed the road because you're STUPID! Only stupid chickens cross busy roads like that. And stop laying eggs. We don't need any more stupid chickens in this world!

You are stuuupidd!.................and another thing, you are stuuupidd!

LOL! I'm definitely going to have to print some of these out!

David Attenborough:

It is very difficult not to be excited by 10,000 chickens.

Well after all this time..

Did the chicken make it across the road?

Or did it get runover by a truck?

I think that question is aimed at Drew....

Drew crossed the road to get to his truck, and stepped on a chicken by accident!

The chicken symbolizes American class tension. The road is, of course, a metaphor for the antebellum South, which has yet to publicly recognize, along with the rest of the nation, the power the chicken has over our collective psyche - call it zeitgeist, if you must.
So, how many chickens must be mini-guillotined, hung up like corporeal laundry over the sluice floor, scalded, plucked, butchered, packaged, flash-frozen, thawed, buttermilk double-breaded and pressure-fried to a medium-golden brown before we stand up as a nation and talk about this elephantine chicken -- this chicken of the modern age -- that hunches, bloated and Lovecraftian in the middle of the road?! Just how many?!! Think on that and be dismayed.... but in the mean time, I needs me a bucket of chicken.

dw [It was never about the 11 herbs and spices, man. Never.]

Sorry about the double-post, but here is the real reason chickens cross the road...
www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19695549/

That settles it. Next time I'm lost in the woods, I'll look for a chicken.

And as for your previous post, dw --