Cooking With Danger
Frying up a hot batch of deep-fried chicken is a lot harder to do these days. Ever since the poultry worker rebellion of 1958, it's nigh impossible to export beef at reasonable rates. This fluctuates the market, driving up the price of chicken cutlets. Now, I'm not one to eat more than I can, but sometimes I get a hankering for a chicken cutlet parmesan. Where in the world can I buy such a delightful treat? It makes for a very satiating meal, that chicken cutlet. Ever wonder where we'd be if not for the chicken farmer?
I have. That's why I ran a cost-projection analysis for the department of the interior a few years ago. They were measuring the impact the loss of chicken farming would have on the American public, and I just had to add my two cents. You should know, you were there. Don't think I didn't see you shuddering in the corner, trying to get the stench of chicken off your clothes. We've all got a little chicken on us. But as long as you're my assistant, I expect nothing less than total perfection. I'm not paying you to goldbrick.
Anyway, the most important asset we've got is chicken. So I told the secretary of the interior, and I quote, "You can't do away with chicken farming! It's all we've got!" But that secretary had no way to know if I was telling the truth or not. You've got to take some things at face value, but you've also got to know when to dig deeper. The fool had no idea. So after we managed to get our pro-chicken agenda through Congress, we all had a big party. I didn't invite Colonel Chickenpox, as he was staunchly anti-chicken. I swore that if he showed up uninvited, I would call his grandchildren and tell then where he was. They've been looking for him for some time now, and I just want to be a good samaritan. Always looking out for the little guy, that's me.
I have. That's why I ran a cost-projection analysis for the department of the interior a few years ago. They were measuring the impact the loss of chicken farming would have on the American public, and I just had to add my two cents. You should know, you were there. Don't think I didn't see you shuddering in the corner, trying to get the stench of chicken off your clothes. We've all got a little chicken on us. But as long as you're my assistant, I expect nothing less than total perfection. I'm not paying you to goldbrick.
Anyway, the most important asset we've got is chicken. So I told the secretary of the interior, and I quote, "You can't do away with chicken farming! It's all we've got!" But that secretary had no way to know if I was telling the truth or not. You've got to take some things at face value, but you've also got to know when to dig deeper. The fool had no idea. So after we managed to get our pro-chicken agenda through Congress, we all had a big party. I didn't invite Colonel Chickenpox, as he was staunchly anti-chicken. I swore that if he showed up uninvited, I would call his grandchildren and tell then where he was. They've been looking for him for some time now, and I just want to be a good samaritan. Always looking out for the little guy, that's me.
--The Taker of Gist | 12:03 AM
10 broke it down:
"We've all got a little chicken on us. But as long as you're my assistant, I expect nothing less than total perfection. I'm not paying you to goldbrick"
I still haven't received my cheque and I'm still trying to pick the chicken out from under my fingernails. What gives?
That is none of my concern. All I care about is the fluidity of the timeline. Anything else is extra, and I can't afford the long-distance charges.
I find that walking down the street with one or two live chickens taped to my back is no substitute for the batwings I lost sometime around the turn of the Paleolithic.
It's a chicken-eat-dirt world out there!
Chickens do tend to be the first ones in and the last ones out. They're like shortstops in that regard, but I'd still feel a lot better if they were given permits and the like.
Being reborn is what gets my up in the morning. That and pop tarts. And waffles. Lego my Ego.
You were always the gifted one. Always playing the piano with one hand while sculpting with the other. Sans a care in the world.
A paradise.
Surrender!
I'll never surrender!
I mean yes, I'll surrender.
But only on the condition of vampirism.
I like to eat chicken . I also enjoy a cold Coca Cola when I eat chicken . Both seem to go together quite nicely !
Nice like a chicken!
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