Chicken Feed

For those of you, such as myself, who may be a little cyber-challenged at times, here is a link to info about how to subscribe to this blog so you don't have to remember to come visit me every day. You do that by using something called Feed, which my friend G_______ clued me in to. The long and short of it, which is what I am making up, on the spot here, for you right now, is this: you take care of the chicken feed, and I will be at your place at feeding time here in the cyber-zoo, that is, whenever I post new things on here. I realize that this is all vague and probably just raises more questions than it answers, really, but they aren't paying me to be good-looking here. They're paying me to be smart. So, I'm probably going to get the axe soon. Like that poor, poor Mike the Headless Chicken, who apparently did a nationwide tour of his own back in the 1940's. Talk about weird, not to mention unsettling. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mike_the_Headless_Chicken

Looks like there is even a festival in his honor in Colorado to this day. Can we go? Can we go? Hey, do you know what's fun and what I like and what is unrelated to the sentence I started this so-called paragraph with? Putting "cyber-" in front of other words. I think it makes me look incredibly smart. And handsome.

Your somewhat illiterate and strangely digital,
Cyber-Chicken

PS- Here is the link I promised regarding the feedburner. When you have researched it inside-out and fully appreciate all of the nuances, please get back to me ASAP and explain it. I thank thee.
http://www.google.com/support/feedburner/bin/answer.py?answer=79408

PPS-And be sure to include an index and bibliography. You know how much I love those. Plus, it keeps you on your toes, and really, you need all of the help you can get. Because you're the one here reading about me! Hahaha. Got you on that one.

Anonymous User Posts

It was brought to the Big Chicken's attention earlier today that two, count 'em, two blog readers (that's almost half of the traffic at this site, mind you, no, wait, now it's one-third, NOW IT'S ONE-THIRD!) attempted to post comments earlier today but were thwarted by the settings.

That problem has now been rectified, so that my dear, dear friends and readers may post on this here blog, if they so wish, without the fear that anyone will ever know that they are affiliated with a chicken as crazy as myself.

Bed bug anyone?

PS-This link to the chicken costume is only here because I can earn a commission if you purchase it by following the link to Amazon, not because I am hinting that this is the one that I want for my very own, because it's not. Are you kidding? This suit could never get the chicks! Except for that one lady who apparently had a "thing" for the big blue goose suit I wore for that refuge festival that one time. I wonder where that lady is now? Why? Oh, no reason. Just wondering.

Bed Bugs

Listen, I know this bed bug epidemic may be a real inconvenience for you, but for me and my friends, it just really means more food.

Honestly, I must admit that I have never eaten a bed bug, yet, so I don't know if it would be delightful or great food. However, since my rule on food is simple ("If it's a bug, try it at least one time"), I expect I'll be trying one at some point in time, seeing as how this does happen to be a bumper year.

zbigchicken at gmail dot com with the z before the b

Ask a Big Chicken - Sponsorship

-Hello, and welcome to the next edition of "Ask a Big Chicken." I am your host, Big Chicken. My guest today is the handsome and talented, Big Chicken. Yes, I will be interviewing myself. Do you have a problem with that, Reader? I thought not. Ahem. (I am handsome and talented, aren't I? It's just that, sometimes I feel so afraid. Getting older, feathers falling out, not much of a nest egg to speak of, burned through that sucker in the crazy omelette-making days of my youth, can hardly find the time to preen properly because everyone I know has all these clucking problems-)

-Big Chicken! We're trying to have a show here.

Oh, sorry. As if you are never plagued by moments of pity and self-doubt.

-Big Chicken, our viewers, both of them, no, wait, all three of them, hang on, there are at least five that we know of now. That's right, five whole readers that we are aware of and we just love and value and just really couldn't pull this crap off without and who we simply must have over for holiday dinner, except not this year because it's Cousin C______'s turn to host and you know how she is. Maybe you don't know how she is and, while I am not one to gossip, I did hear the other day that she-

Excuse me, Big Chicken. Aren't you going to interview me?

-You know what? You don't have to snap at me.

I'm not snapping at you.

-Yes, you did, and I don't have to take that. As a matter of fact, I'm just going to quit right now.

Big Chickey, wait! How are you, I mean we, ever going to find sponsors for our Great American Roadtrip if we don't ask somebody how to do it?

-Doggone it, Big Chicken, you're right. As much as I hate to admit it, you are. Let's just put that one out to our readers then, shall we?

Yes, let's.

-Reader(s), how can we, one lone, redundant chicken, find sponsors? Without having to ask one? Because that's scary and they might say no and then laugh at my ideas.

zbigchicken at gmail dot com that's with the z before the b

PS-The Big C has just been notified by a popular search engine that 'The Great American Roadtrip' is a title that has already been used. To that end, your very big chicken and all his crony friends would like to offer to you this contest of sorts. That is, you, Dear Reader, dear, dear reader, you come up with a fancy schmancy name for my journey across this Our Great Land and I will give to you, free of charge and because you won, space enough on my blog for your name. But hurry! This offer won't last long. And after all, who wouldn't want their name out there for all sorts of, you know, other people to see? No, really, I think it's a great prize. Listen, you don't really have to worry about your privacy on this blog yet, seeing as how it's got a whopping five readers (thank you guys) and pulled in eight cents gross revenue from advertising last week.

This is Chicken. I'm on a roll.*

*But I'm saving the side of asterisk for after lunch, because really, I am full and couldn't possibly have another bite.

Ask a Big Chicken

-Do Big Chickens have hot dates?

No. Normally they do not, seeing as how they are big human people who like to dress in fowl costumes. Chicks do not always dig that. In fact, they rarely dig that. Listen, I'm feeling rather lonely here, so could we please stop with the dating questions? (here, read this question)

-Fine. Do Big Chickens like bok choy?

Very much. In fact, bok choy is part of what this Big Chicken is having for breakfast right this very minute. At four am in this part of the world. (Even though the time stamp on my computer says otherwise, but that's because I am traveling. Trust your Big Chickey on this one, for I would never lie to you, plucky reader, unless it suited me.) That's right, ladies and wheat germs, the Big Chicken (that would be me, although because of the way the next part of the sentence is structured, it should be "I," and please stop confusing the big chickey because I haven't yet had a chance to preen, although you obviously have because, as usual you look so cute at four am. You haven't preened yet? Well, how can you look so good at this unbugly hour? Jerk.) gets up at four in the morning, and yes that is with the chickens, to have leftover beefy stir fry with delicious and nutritious broccoli and bok choy and other leafy green things with a nice sauce over ric-Hm? Am I a vegetarian? No. I tried it but I found that I really missed the bugs.

-How was your date?

It was fine. I like to eat bugs.

-You're changing the subject, Big Chicken.

No, I'm not.

-Big Chicken....

Am not.

-Yes, you are.

No. I'm not.

-Are.

Not.

-Listen, Big Chicken, dating is nothing to be ashamed of. Are you going on another one?

No.

-Why not?

Because she prefers men who don't wear feathers.


zbigchicken at gmail dot come that's with a z before the b

Test for Products

Hello World,

Big Chicken here with a test-post for the brand spanking new Amazon gadgets and gizmos links and so forth.  This is a test, this is only a test.  If this were a real entry, I would smack you around a little more, rough you up a little bit before leaving.  As it is, I need to catch the next tail wind headed towards the ocean, leaving in five minutes, so let's see how this looks, and if it isn't right for a start, I will work on it some tomorrow, or at least get back to you with a good, solid excuse as to why I did not.  Do we have a deal, Reader?

Good.

Your Very Big C

Do Chickens Have Dreams?

Do Chickens Have Dreams?

Yes, they do.  And big ones, I might add.  Big, crazy ones with roller skates.  Except last night after I took the roller skates off of the person in the DeGrazia painting (that I was supposed to be dusting for a friend I am currently avoiding in waking life) and put them down behind the fireplace they turned into a pink skateboard that started rolling real fast and I had to trap it in there.  Why does that always happen to me?

Which brings me to my next question:
Do chickens dust?  Because even though I dreamed it in the pomegranate, apple tree, pear-tree-that-my-sister-planted-are-we-drinking-contaminated-water portion of the dream, I just really and truly hate to dust and don't wish to do it anymore and figure that if I ask you if chickens dust and you give me a biological reason why they do not, then I can stop.  Oooooh, hey, I learned something important about the migrating habits of Canadian geese yesterday.  This one guy (who I never met before but who I absolutely trusted right away because he fed me fresh seafood) said you know when they're (the geese not the seafood) flying in a "V" formation, heading north, and one side of the "V," one 'leg' of it (he said, but I would call it an 'arm') is longer than the other and do you know why that is?  And I said "no," or "uh-uh," (which also means "no" in the English language) and he said, "Because there are more ducks on that side," although really, in all honesty, he probably did say "geese" since that is what he was talking about in the first place, and I probably just remember it as "ducks" because I was jealous of his knowledge and wit.  Which is why I stole his joke.

I put this out to you now, my fine, feathered, and plucky friends, so that next time you come across an avian biologist, or wait, no, let's make that any biologist, who has spent many years hard at work in school studying everything they can to make the grade and learn about this our fantastic world where brilliantly plumaged, winged creatures fly and soar way up high above the land (wish I could fly, I, a mere chicken), well, you can just pull this one out of your party hat and dazzle them with your, um, brilliance.*****  That's right.  Go ahead.  Do it.  Just don't tell 'em I said to.  Say that, um, my sister told you to.  Why?  No reason.  Just do it, see what happens.

Love*,

Your Very Big C

PS-I quit dusting ages ago.  Because Big Tough Strong Mean Chickens, such as myself, do not dust.  Ever.  Unless there are chicks coming over.

*No tricks today where Love is concerned, ladies and wheat germs.  It's all serious.  Very, very serious.  Except it can't be, because I am a human person who would like nothing better than to dress up in a chicken suit (an attractive one, mind you) and roller skate all around this our great land, even though it apparently shocked that one nice mid-western lady who taught me how to play the card game "_______" the other night which, incidentally, is a very fun game even if you don't win, although I'm sure that it would feel even better if you did.  If I did.  Win, I mean.  Because after all, isn't that what this is all about?  This whole life business.  Win, win, win.  Oh, look at that - I won.  I just won something!  In your face, you loser!  I just won.  That makes you a loser.  Ha ha ha.  Loser.  Oh, hey, can you give me a ride home?  I'm out of gas money.  Thanks.  I owe you one.  Loser.

*****You should trust the Big Chicken on this one because, as everyone knows, people love nothing more than when someone insults not only their level of intelligence, but also their level of education.  How do I know this, you might ask.**  Because I do it all the time.

**What I don't know how to do is to properly punctuate a sentence like this one referenced with Today's Double Asterisk-esses (above).****  Could someone look that one up for me, please?  For free, of course.  And get back to me on that by, say, oh, 'bout 2.  Maybe three.  Thx.  (But 4 at the absolute latest because I am tired of Playing Chicken and want to go home now.  Plus, I have a hot date with "_______" tonight, so I want to go daydream about that.  Perhaps tomorrow I will be not only your daily feathered friend, but also a Chickey with a Hickey. *+  Oh, Big Chicken, I know you didn't.  Oh yes, I did.

*+ I need someone to not only look up the spelling of the word "hickey," but also the mechanics behind the phenomenon as well as any related patterns of distribution across North America, type it all up, include a table of contents and bibliography, all properly capitalized, mind you, bind it electronically, seal it with a kiss (aka SWAK) and get that on over here to me by noon.  Chop-chop, you're wasting time here and I'm a control freak, so you'd better get moving because I haven't got all day.

**** Regarding Multiple Asterisk-Esses
I have decided to fore-go your usual butt-kicking, total field domination/humiliation as far as footnotes go today, seeing as how it's Monday.  Tell you what, come on back here tomorrow, see if I can't whip something up for you.  Like some nice hot scrambled eggs, which reminds me, have you had your breakfast?  Well, what are you waiting for?  We live in a land of plenty (although you may want to consider brushing up on a new language or two, but especially Chinese, and that's a word to the wise here from my new friend J_____, whose real name is K_______, from Thailand who is pursuing courses related to business management with a focus on international marketing and which I think is just really good advice and hope that some or all or both of you, dear readers, might consider trying to learn a new language with me) you should go eat some food.  Just not too much.  Save some for your pal Chickey, who will soon, very soon, be skating all across this Our Great Land, to have some breakfast with you.  All of you.  All both of you.  Hey, you!  Get away from me with that fork.

Monitoring Bird Populations Using Mist Nets (Studies in Avian Biology)

Needed! Someone To Do My Homework For Me

Good morning ladies, and wheat germs, and fair, soft, plucky, cute feathered friends:

I am writing to you today because I have an announcement that needs to circulate within the wanted ad sections of your daily circulars or electronic newsletters or what-have-you, (since I simply cannot commit to regularly publishing one of my own, and if you wish to know more about that, please refer to the prior post about that here on  on my blog-spot although, again, and I just really cannot stress this enough, I am not going to tell you which one it is or where it is located because I just refuse to continue doing your work for you) so please feel free to forward this on to your many and varied and magnificent and smart and also terribly, terribly wealthy friends in the spirit in which it was written, or typed, or laid, fresh this morning.

WANTED:

Someone to do my homework for me while I travel around and have many related chicken-skate adventures.

Oh, alright, I know that I need to do my coursework myself because, after all, it does build character, which as you all know by now, (or at the very least you should although sometimes I just cannot be sure how much is really infiltrating that spongy mass coated by a hard crunchy shell that is your head.  Don't look at me.  I'm just sayin', is all.) is the reason that I am here, doing this.  For you.

So please, call now.  Except I am not going to put my phone number on here because I do not want to get a bunch of phone calls from wackos while I am seriously trying to dress up like a chicken and roller skate around the country.  So lay off!  Here, try emailing me at zbigchicken at gmail dot com and that is with a z before the b because it gives it a little something to really push it over the top of this lunacy.  I thank you.

Once again and twice over easy and verily I remain,
Your Incredibly, Edibly, Large and Magnificent and Strong Yet Flamboyant - "C"

The Ad That Started It All

And now, ladies and wheat germs, due to the new-found, Edit HTML-style mad knowledge and cyber skills gained by the Big Chicken during a recent and wonderful Privacy Post Informational Experience on this blog right here, I give to you, the Craiglist ad that started it all, and not too long ago. Ahem.

WANTED

Light-Weight Chicken Suit and Pull-Behind Travel Trailer

I would like to dress like a big chicken and rollerskate/rollerblade in various locations from the northwestern US to Arizona or possibly Louisiana.

Need:

One light-weight chicken suit (or other large bird suit that is not copyrighted or otherwise limited for use in a film)

Have truck, but need a pull-behind travel trailer to live/work in. Truck can pull 5,000lbs but I need to check on the weight limit for my hitch. Will-update post if anyone seems interested.

Gas money would be great, too.


Serious inquiries only.

Twitter Tweets

Twitter Tweets
Bittersweet
Warped up humor
http://twitter.com/zbigchicken

New Tool Ideas and (Yawn) Privacy Notice

The Big Chicken has been advised that telescoping carbon graphite poles could prove very handy in his adventures on skates, and thinks that they could also lend a theatrical flair to performance.  To that end, the Big C is busily signing up for the Amazon Affiliates program so that you, fair and plucky readers, can help support the chicken's mission to make you laugh by buying all sorts of wonderful things that you will be able to get to from links and widgets and banners and things here.  Those sentences above may seem unrelated now, but when I originally wrote them, they were not, so there.

Oh, and by the way, Amazon Affiliates and Google AdSense, the fine folks who set up the programs that I am using to provide to you links to products, ask (okay they require, but since I don't like to be told what to do, I am just going to pretend like they "asked") me to provide to you information about privacy.  Which I think is a very fine idea in addition to being good advice.  So, following is the

PRIVACY NOTICE

This is cut and pasted from Amazon's agreement because the very Big C, while being amazingly smart and handsome, though surly but otherwise quite amazing and wonderful as well as a very dashing, dashing figure, knows only enough about how the following things work to know that they exist, and that only because he has been told, but then whenever other entities begin to speak of things such as cookies and so forth, the very Big C begins to get hungry and wonder why they must spend so much time talking about content and so forth when clearly it is dinnertime.  So, here is what you, brilliant viewer, may understand better than the Big C, in which case, could you please inform me?  Except, please don't, because I am trying to rest up here for my next go around the park, and this all serves to make me very tired.


-disclosing on your site accurately and adequately, either through a privacy policy or otherwise, how you collect, use, store, and disclose data collected from visitors, including, where applicable, that third parties (including us and other advertisers) may serve content and advertisements, collect information directly from visitors, and place or recognize cookies on visitors’ browsers;

I, the very Big C, do not at this point, knowingly collect data from or about you.  If that changes, I will let you know.  However, the companies mentioned above, as well as the advertisers whose services are described here and elsewhere on the blog, do, as stated above.  At this point, I will give a little look-see, see if I can't find the info from Google's AdSense to provide to you another portion of this site's Privacy Policy, and put that rrrrright here:

-You must have and abide by an appropriate privacy policy that clearly discloses that third parties may be placing and reading cookies on your users’ browser, or using web beacons to collect information, in the course of ads being served on your website.  Your privacy policy should also include information about user options for cookie management.

Regarding that last sentence there, if you want to manage your cookies, I would suggest eating some with milk.  Then searching for however it is that you can clear your browsing history and delete cookies.  In Mozilla Firefox, one of the grand and glorious browsers of this our fair land, you do that in the "Tools" area up at the top there.  Yes, right there.

On a completely unrelated note, the Very Big C just found out where to go in the Blogger posting area to be able to paste information from other documents.  Maybe you already knew this, I did not but it's EDIT HTML!  Woo-hoo!  Score!  Joy today.  Joy in this here barnyard today, and all thanks to you, Privacy Notice informational post experience.  I Thank You and Verily I Remain,

Your Very Big C.

PS- Does anyone else actually read the agreements?  My eyes are bugging out of my head, I swear.   Who knew being a Big character Chicken was going to be so much work?  Haha.  Hey, it's probably a good thing I kept going with the reading, because I need to tell you something else, so listen close because I am going to whisper since the hens and chicks are heading up to roost, shhhhh.  Here:

"The Big Chicken is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.”

This just in - the very Big C could not finalize the registration process due to glitches in the system or perhaps operator error and thusly, shall be trying to finish that up again later.  Poor, cyber-challenged very big c.

Marriage

Ahhh, morning.  You know what is the very best part of a new day?  It's that nobody remembers what was said and done yesterday (at least I don't), so all is forgiven.  Yes sir-ee.  Water under the bridge.  No hard feelings.

Well, that's the way it SHOULD be.

Wasn't like I meant to call her that, or say those things about her mother.  Alright, I did too mean to say that part because, technically, I thought about it for a moment or so beforehand and heard a whispered internal voice that said, "You really shouldn't say that," or, okay, I lied, what it actually said in a pretty loud and confident tone was, "DON'T," but then I didn't listen because that other voice said, "You know, if you do say this, then you win."  So I did, but the thing that confuses me is why she would get so mad about it or even take it personally to begin with just because it was aimed towards her prior generation's genetic material.  And plus I won, so you'd think she could at least be happy for me about that, but noooooo.  Which really just burns me up, after all we've been through.  I am not kidding, I am mad, and since I, unlike everybody else, happen to do my best thinking this way, I have since decided ("since" being just from the start of typing this here) that I'm not going to her cousin's wedding today like I promised.  Yeah, you know why?  Because weddings are dumb.  Plus, I'm mad.

Hey You!  Dashing Reader.  Stop Following Me.

So I think that this not going to the wedding thing is the perfect plan because it will probably hurt her feelings, so there I would win again, plus then I wouldn't have to spend time around her family and friends.  Haha, this is so perfect.  Why didn't I think of this before?  Actually, I'm not going to beat myself up on that one because I have been under a lot of stress lately, what with work and the arguments and all.  The constant barrage of never-ending arguments and the sporadic trickles of low-paying work.  Hm.

This is Big Chicken, on a roll.  Coming Soon to a Town Near You
So, tell your friends, and while you're at it, tell my friends too because lately, they haven't been speaking to me or returning my calls which is just rude.  Same thing I do to them, sometimes, but still.  Oh, hey, but as for traveling chicken, we (and when I say "we," I mean both of our personalities, as well as any roadies or managers who would like to quit, at least temporarily and in these hard times, the relative security of their day job to come along with with one big chicken and help spread joy o'er the land.  Joy and manure.  Which is very, very good for the flowers.  Flowers that bring more joy.  Getting back to the job announcement.)

JOB ANNOUNCEMENT
Big Chicken Seeks Work
(Wrong place?  Oh, why thank you.  I'll just move that one over here to this little bench put up as an Ode to Hemingway's Editors and Publishers--->"_______" for now**.  Temporarily.  Okay.)

High-Powered Work in the Poultry Industry
Are you funny?  Do you like to travel without the cumbersome burden of job security?  Are you ready to fore-go that steady paycheck?  Are you fiscally more responsible than I?  If you said "Yes," to any or none of these questions, then get ready for the ride of a lifetime.

Position:  Chicken Handler
Pay: DOE (that is, Dependent On Egg-sperience), and however much dough you can bring, or "rake" in.  Which does mean that you are paying for yourself really.  But don't yell at me, because there comes a time in your life when you become responsible for your own destiny.  That time is now.  So in this position that I am generously offering to you, today, you pay yourself.  And handsomely, I might add.  Why?  Because we need the dough.  Listen, I already told you that once, is it always going to be this difficult to work with you?  Hang on a minute, I just remembered something that I said I would do and didn't.  So, I just need to pause here and feel bad about it for a second...okay, it passed.

The cravings.  They do pass.  But it sure does suck in the meantime.  Where was I?  And why was I in a chicken suit?  Again?

Oh.  Job opening.

JOB OPENING
Big Roller-Skating Chicken Seeks Partner
Someone adventurous, smart, good-looking, and funny (I just cannot stress that last one enough) to hit the road and help to spread joy and fertilizer o'er the land.

Awareness of Synchronicity a plus+, but direct egg-sperience not required.  On-the-job-training provided by kind, loving, generous, supportive universe.

But hurry!  This job won't last long.  Already the phones are ringing off the hooks, (which would be great except it's just the restaurant here at the coffee shop and really I wish they'd try to keep it down because I am trying to work here).  And remember, this job offer is for no guaruntee of money (could someone spell that "g" word for me, please?), which is scary.  True.  But, who's got the time or energy to go get a job that actually pays money when they're busy feeling scared and insecure in those odd moments between lurking in the corner and watching some TV?

(this is a reminder from the Big Chicken)
Ladies and wheat germs, eatcher breakfast.

(we now return to our regularly scheduled program)
That doesn't sound like a job description, that sounds more like a....

MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

Honey, we've been together for a long time now and I've been thinking.  Our student loans are almost paid off and your last one is just about to graduate from college, so we don't have to pretend like we don't live together anymore just so he can continue to receive that financial need based scholarship, and my new health insurance premium might actually be slightly less crippling if we have more people on the policy, plus I think with our combined earnings as low as they are we might still fit into that one tax bracket which doesn't exist that doesn't penalize partners, plus with the discount we could receive as a couple on our car insurance, I just really want to know, Darling, would you marry me?

-No.

Big Silent Roller Skating Chicken, coming soon to a town near you.

Darling, why won't you marry me?  Is it your fear of commitment?  Is it my long-running string of one-night stands?  Honey, I can change!  I can change.  I promise I can.  But I won't.  However, I will promise to say to you here today that I'll do whatever it is that you want.  Because I think that we both know by now that I am never going to stay true to that one promise anyway, so let's just lower the bar and make it more of an "attainable goal."  Speaking of which, this just in-

Regarding Employment With the Chicken
No nepotism.  None.  We won't tolerate that here.  No sir-ee.  There will be none of that here.  After all, the last thing that you want to do when you're fighting tooth and nail to get along  in the world is take care of the people you love the most (that would be your family, we hope) by providing them with jobs.  Even if they aren't qualified.  That's right, we prefer to elevate to the proper levels of incompetency from the outside only.  Look, this all gets confusing.  Tell you what, why don't we take a look down here and see what the asterisk has to say today.*

Now, having said all of this, and duly prefaced it with all of that, if you follow-  Do you follow?  Good, maybe you could be so kind as to tell me where it is that I am.  As well as why I am wearing this chicken suit.  And on a completely unrelated note, wouldn't it be kind of neat to remember what one had been doing the night before?  Or said.  To make her so angry, man was she a bear this morning.  And everybody knows that bears and chickens, they don't mix well, because one eats the other alive, and we just won't think about that now, here at the start of this fresh new day, fresh as a new-laid egg.

Again, this is your big chicken on skates, and that's poultry, on a roll.

zbigchicken at gmail dot com that's with a z before the b because it gives it added flair!


**There, I did it again.  Double asterisk first.  Double asterisk preceding the single asterisk yet again today and I do it every day and then you fall for it and that comes back to define me as what?  That's right, both brilliant and dashing.  I must admit.  Hey, what's this  "-ing"  Dashing!  Get it?  "Dash" ing, dash ---> "-" plus "ing"  Courtesy chuckle?  No?  Fine.  Stick with the chicken jokes?  Oh, you prefer fowl humor?  I suspected as much about you.  Oooo, BTW, did you get the reference about the Ode to Hemingway's Editors and Publishers up there?  I made that up you know.  But I have hidden it elsewhere in this blog and I shall leave it to you to find it, because, as I have said to you before, I absolutely refuse to do your work for you, because after all, that is what you are paying yourself for.

*NOTHING!  Oh, snap!  Got you on that one.  You always fall for that one.  Tell you what, come back tomorrow, maybe I won't do the EXACT SAME THING TO YOU AGAIN.

Feeling Chicken

This is the Big Chicken, here to say that I am feeling a bit flighty today.  And self-conscious, and scared (see "chicken" portion of chosen super secret identity.)  For instance, I posted this one thing I made up and then thought, no wait, that one is very crazy and shouldn't I really try to put my best foot (or claw) out there if ever I want to impress the people who may want to sponsor this film, instead of just putting it all out there, whether it's crap or not?  So, having said all of that, I will strive to moderate the crazy.  That, today, is my promise to you.  Yes, indeed.  All the both of you.  I just sure do hope that some of my sponsors turn out to be crazy, too, because that would be ever so much more fun and satisfying.

Speaking of moderating the crazy, the big chicken needs a costume, and then he/I can start posting video of our travels on the wonderful website known throughout this our fair land as a place where people, and chickens, can post videos and others may go and click on them and so access them and watch them, and that many times for free.

So, if you or someone you know would like to collaborate with the Big Chicken and the BC's very lovely and very talented artist friend A________ on the design and construction of the suit, please give me a holler at zbigchicken at gmail dot com , that's with a z before the b

And I ask because it's probably pretty apparent to you by now, or at the very least it should be, that I can use all of the help I can get.   Thank you in advance for any help or advice that you may be able to provide.

This is One Roller-Skating Chicken and that's poultry, on a roll.

Response To Spammer - Excuse for Not Posting Number Two

A Memo to the Ladies, Gentlemen, and Corporate Entities Considered to Have the Same Rights as a Person:

Dear Good Ma'ams and Sirs and CECHSRP's,

Please be advised by this memo that the reason that I have not yet sent to you the response to the spammer that I brought to your attention the other day is because I have been very, very busy, and the response that I promised, without any request on your part, to send to you has been sitting, all alone and gathering dust, on the bottom right corner of my frayed and frazzled "To-Do List," not getting done.

Rest assured, good fellows, fair lady, and dashing corporate entity, that I shall send to you the response to the spammer that you did not request, and, to that end, I will do it just as soon as I am able.

I have taken the liberty of requesting a "Read Return" on each message, and have even gone so far as to include coding, hidden within the text, that will freeze your screen if you do not comply with my demands to acknowledge that you received my letter.  Just kidding on that part, but it would be funny wouldn't it?  Because that would effectively stop any chance of productivity that you good folks there at that fine company might have today to get the work done on the projects you have that pay the bills which fund the paychecks that you use to eventually feed your families.  Hahaha.  Aren't I a funny bird, hmmmmm.

Now that I think about it, maybe that isn't the best idea, and I'm starting to think that perhaps I shouldn't include those kinds of jokes in letters to potential employers.  Having said all of that, I'm still going to leave that paragraph in here, because I spent at least ten minutes typing it up and I absolutely refuse to give up after I have invested so much time and effort in any endeavor at all but especially this one, because this is a battle that I feel very strongly about and you know, if this means war, then I thus declare it.

Ladies, gentlemen, CECHSRP's, I bid to you good day.  You shall also be hearing from my attorney forthwith, as we are in the process of suing you for not giving me a job.

Good day.  Sincerely,
Your Big Chicken

PS-Listen, if that one job comes open in accounting, could you notify me by email?  zbigchicken at gmail dot com , just remember to put the z before the b.

Direction for Chicken

Hello there, it's me, the Big C,

Here to say that the purpose of this blog is to build character, namely, my own!  So far, we have taken a trip down crazy street, and the absurd byways and highways of some uncharted territory of the brain, which has been rather surprising.

I don't want to get off track here, so (shrieking brakes here as skates come to a halt) will try to maintain some focus.  I am writing a screenplay for a movie, about myself, a giant chicken who roller skates around the United States, and it's the first time I have done something like this, so the ride may continue to be bumpy at times, and the scenery may not be that great at times, since I am really just putting stuff out there without an editor because everyone I know is busy and I don't want to ask people to read my stuff before I post it, and because I am, well, chicken.  Haha.  Chicken being synonymous with lazy!  No, really, it does have a lot to do with just being scared, because for years, this chicken has been a closet writer.  Loads of stuff just waiting in boxes for the end of the world to arrive, or something.  Over the past few years, some ideas finally started making brief verbal appearances among family and friends, but then I would get to a place where I was scared to move forward, and well, long story short, it is really why the chicken character is just perfect for me.  Well, that and for years I have had the inexplicable desire to dress up as a bird and roller skate.  Please don't ask me why, because I don't know, but I do know that I love it. 

Back to the chicken's particular brand o' crazy - in the beginning of the film, he is a pretty insensitive jerk, so that part of the character has probably become apparent already.  However, rest assured that this Big Chicken does learn his lessons, and while the film is in large part a platform to get a lot of mileage (get it?  skating across the country) out of breast, leg, and thigh jokes, as well as all sorts of fowl humor, there will also be something that the chicken learns, because learning is something that is important to the Big Chicken's creator.  In addition, community is important, and whenever I tell people what it is that I want to do, they laugh and laugh, delighted.  So it brings a real sense of connection with other people into my life.

One more thing about the chicken: he is silent, so I get to practice being a mime, if I can ever work up the nerve to clown around in the mirror again!  I think that part will be much easier once my dear and generous artist friend helps me with the mask.

For the time being, I am going to leave whatever craziness it is that I wrote up on this here blog, because, honestly, I am scared to go re-read that crap right now!  So if you want a true taste of crazy, read those posts now, because they may not be there after I get up the nerve to go see whatever it is that I did.

Also, I am working on developing a budget for this endeavor and would appreciate help in that department.  More, but for now, I have some other work to do, don't we all, and plus, I'd like to check out some chicks.  Thank you in advance for any help with this matter.

Sincerely,
The Big Chicken on Skates Who Wants to Help People Laugh Wherever It Is That I Roam
Coming Soon to a Town Near You

One idea for the film includes traveling around to neat regional festivals or birding events and so forth.   I would love to hear ideas about how to do that, and may be reached at zbigchicken at gmail dot com , please note that there is a z in front of the c because someone else already had the email address that I wanted.

Big Chicken Checklist

I have been blogging for at least a week now and I just realized that I haven't told you eggs-actly what it is I, or we, rather, are doing here, and I say "we" because there are people on board with this craziness, it is not just me, and then yes, I will continue to use words like eggs-actly, on and on, forever and ever, until death do us part.

Having said all of that, I give to you now a mission statement, a working mission statement, mind you, because I am making this up, off the cuff, fresh this morning.  Remember those brothers who were on a mission from god?  Well, I'm not them, nor am I affiliated (yet).  Speaking of which, I really need to get busy looking around on Amazon for nifty little high-priced chicken items for you to buy because if you purchase something from there that you got to from clicking on it here in this blog-spot, then I will earn a commission, and I think that could work out well for the both of us because then you would have the nifty thing and I would have some dough which, as we all know, can come in pretty handy at times when you're trying to dress up in a chicken suit and skate across this our fair and glorious and beautiful land.  I guess for that idea to come to fruition, though, I need to buckle down and do the work.  Right.  As if that's gonna happen.  Tell you what, if I do decide to follow through on that, I'll keep you "posted."

No, you know what?  On second thought, coming up with a mission statement could be a lot of work (I know that from eggs-sperience, having started, but never finished, several of them), and I have some other things I need to focus on today regarding this fowl chicken business, and really I don't see how spending the time to make a concerted effort on defining the focus of the chicken's intent (or "mission") is going to help me out here.

So, let's get to the checklist of things we need for our crazy chicken movie.

My friends, business associates (and I say my friends first because they have been with me longer, through no fault of their own, and anyway we all know how long the business associates will stick around - well if you don't already know, it's precisely that significant moment in time that can only be described as "until the money runs out" [Thanks for Your Support!]), family (and I put them last because I "saved the best" for last, you know?  love you guys, you who are even crazier than I, because, after all, you not only support this but give me many wonderfully crazy chicken puns and ideas), and I are working on this crazy "scheme" that I hatched.  Well, it isn't a "scheme" as much as it is an "idea to have some fun and earn some money and make lots of people really very happy by giving them the opportunity to see a grown-up person dressed up in a chicken suit roller skating around and having adventures doing funny clown-type things and learning some lessons and stuff."  Now, I know what some of you are doubtless thinking, "This chick has never earned money," and you would be absolutely right if you weren't already incredibly wrong.  So wrong!  You see, my chicken, or me, or I, rather, is a dude.  (Oh, also, I know this crazy chicken "scheme," as defined above in the second, third, no fifth occurrence of quotation marks in this here blog today [which for those of you who can't count was the part where I explained what the chicken "scheme," is or was.  Is.  Don't make me say it again.] where was I going with this?  Oh, crazy chicken scheme description needs some work if it's ever going to be a decent log line for a film, but who has time to work on things that production companies want to see when you're busy trying to build an empire and dominate the poultry industry, is what my question is, even though it is phrased as a statement.  That is true.  You got me there on that one.)

Now, having said all of that and it isn't even eight o'clock yet (no matter what the time stamp says on my computer), I think I shall retire for the day.

Goodbye and again I thank you.
The Big Chicken

PS-I have just been advised by the resident advisers in my head that I need to continue with this "work" thing here for longer than one half of an hour.  I would tell them where to go, but they are clearly, already there.  Plus, they are my bosses, and I really can't afford to lose this job right now, because I need the benefits.  You can't get coffee just anywhere, am I right? 

(We now return to the work in progress)
Oh, hey, hi everyone!  Where did you go?  Long time no see, glad you could stop by.  Come on in and have some tea, you want some tea?  Yes, some nice hot tea, yes, that's right, tea.  BECAUSE THE COFFEE IS MINE AND THERE ISN'T ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US, SO IF YOU TOUCH THAT POT I'M GONNA K-
Mint?  Oh, good.  You don't have caffeine in the morning?  Ever?  Hahaha.  What is that like?  It just sounds CRAZY to me, but if it works for you, then I guess that's fine.  More coffee for me.  Hahaha, crazy.  haha.  haaaaa.

Checklist
No, wait.  I'll do that tomorrow.  Or later today.  Okay.
Mission Statement
To bring laughter to people by dressing up like a big chicken and roller skating around and documenting that s#!&.

(You guys think I should have a curse word in my mission statement?  Well, it would certainly make it unique, wouldn't it?  Oh, alright, fine, if you want to be a jerk about it I'll just fix it, up, a little, ok there-)

To bring laughter to people by dressing up like a big chicken and roller skating around and documenting that _______.

Oh, hey, now that I think about it (I don't do that too often, so this is really a special moment for me, and I just want to say that I am so very,very glad that I got to spend it here and experience that little time in space with you) my mission statement is even more wonderful with the "Ode to Hemingway's Editors and Publishers" (see prior post, although I'm not going to tell you what I mean by that or which post would explain it because you need to learn this stuff yourself and I refuse to do your work for you, or mine either, for that matter, but it's referring to the blank line.  There, I told you.  Happy?) up there because one, we can fill in the blank dependent upon whatever it is we are doing at the time to make (or, help) people laugh and two, it really cuts out a lot of effort here at the front of this grand endeavor, meaning that I don't need to spend all that time developing something up front that may "evolve" anyway, so it can really cut costs because then I won't be putting the hours in doing that.  Then, oh, I know, then I can take the time to calculate how much money that saved my boss, while I'm on the clock, mind you, and then ask for that for my Christmas bonus.  That's brilliant.  I know! 

Oh, hey, before I get back to the checklist of things that I need, first I gotta tell you what I learned yesterday.  There is a way to get this wonderful, filling, and nutritious blog in your gullet (get it? gullet? bird?  oh, never-) every time I post it which I promise will be daily unless it's not, in which case, then, it won't be.  However, whenever it is posted, and I could do that, let's see, maybe three times a week, no, wait a second, last time I promised that I didn't come through, so, okay, uh, hm.  Tuesdays.  I could commit to doing this on Tuesdays.  Ok, so every Tues- wait a minute, I don't know for sure about that one.  Let me look at my cal- nope.  Ah, listen, Tuesdays don't look good for anything that's going to be a "regular" kind of a thing.  You know what what I could do, though?  I could do it "semi-regularly."  That way, you never know when to expect it and I don't need to feel bad about whenever it is that I'm not doing it.

Now, as far as payments from you to me for my incredibly brilliant and obviously valuable services here, they are due upon receipt and I will bill you every Friday.  No, wait, since this can be done via the internet then, I will bill you every day.  Yes, that's right.  No, I'm afraid that part is non-negotiable, as was clearly stated in the contract that you willingly entered into whenever you started reading this blog.  Yes, I know it was never stated there, but you did this, not me. 


Where am I?  And why am I in this chicken suit?  Oh, feed.  That's right.  My new friend and associate G______ taught me yesterday something that you, plucky reader, undoubtedly already know, but a thing which I didn't, which I why I said that she "taught" me, and that is about the RSS Feed.  So, if you would like to receive this fowl newsletter (oh, that's a great idea, I will promise to you a newsletter that I will probably never deliver, or if I do, I will do it once, maybe twice, and then solicit some feedback, and then feel crushed after everyone tells me how great and funny it is except for that one guy in Massachusetts who said maybe it would be funnier if he wasn't going through such a hard time right now and he'll try it again later, but I really felt crushed.  That, in and of itself, was a mighty, mighty blow.) once a we-, no, that would be semi-, ok, start over.

So, if you would like to receive this incredibly Fowl Newsletter (we'll make up a name later, I'm trying to work here) on a semi-regular basis (as described in the non-existent Terms and Conditions, posted above, with a hidden link, that I can't even find but which the programmer stated was there, and I trust him already because he sent me an email once and signed it K______, so I feel like we've known each other for ages and I do hope that he (or she, because I'm really not sure on that once, since it was simply signed "K") and you will meet me for dinner this weekend, by the wharf, and I tell you what, I'm going to leave my cell phone at home, or, no, wait, in the car, and uh, oh, hey, this'll be my treat because after all, you'll get it the next time and I have this wad of cash and unassigned money orders just burning a whole in my pocket.  Well, that's just a figure of speech because they're really stored in the glove box.  Speaking of which, hey, do you think I should lock the car while we're here?  I know this looks like a seedy part of town, but don't they also say you should never judge a book by it's cover?  Which I think is just a really good saying, in addition to being great advice.  I mean, you know that one book that had the icky, deteriorating corpse/bloody skull cover that I thought would be a story that would give me nightmares?  It was a lullaby.  A really, long [400 pages!] and scary one that gave me nightmares and plus I had to sleep with the light on for at least a week, maybe two, after, but still I am trying to read it again so I can learn all the words so I can pass that on to the next generation.  Which I really won't be doing because as of yet I have no chick-lets of my own and, what's that?  You saw the Craigslist post?  Oh.)

Where am I?  And why am I wearing this chicken suit?  Oh, that's right, towns we will travel to and Sponsors.  For those of you who would like to support our endeavor, please email me at zbigchicken at gmail dot com, and make sure you put the "z" at the front, 'cause '_______' was already taken, which means that there is some dashing person out there using the fancy email address that I wanted.


(we interrupt this program for a very important letter)

An Open Letter to The Person Who Has the Email Address That I Wanted
Dear Person (aka '_________'at _____ dot com):
I am writing to you today because I am starting a grand new business endeavor (or "scheme"), structurally fashioned in part in a similar manner to those glorious Egyptian tombs for the pharoahs, and need your help.  As I was embarking on this grand "scheme," I noticed that the email address that I wished to be granted by the great and mighty and glorious email, search engine, and numerous other services provider that we all know and love and just really really hope will stick around forever and come over for holiday dinner at least once because everyone, and I do mean everyone, needs to see cousin C________ when she's had a few, (deep breath here, okay, go!) had already been taken by you.  And, even though I don't know you,  '_________'at _____ dot com, I do hope that you know what a mighty inconvenience it was for me to need to try another name, and another one, and then sit back for a little while and think and then ask myself, "If this chicken thing is going to be this challenging, well, ask yourself, ________, is it really worth all of this?" before coming up with the brilliant and flashy and, yeah, okay, I'll say it, zesty, that's right that is what I am talking about the word "zesty," because when you put a z in front of a b it just looks crazy in the English language.  Might be okay in Russian or some other language that I don't know much or any of, except for maybe a please and a thank you oh, and a cuss word here and there, but really, after all is said and done '_________'at _____ dot com, I am writing to you today to thank you, because without you having already taken the grand and glorious name that I wanted, I never would have put the z in front of the b which, as we all know by now, is just plain funny.  Even if it is used seriously in another language.  Like, to make actual "words."  Hahaha.  Words that they use to communicate.  Ah ha, ah ha, ah heh.

So again, '_________'at _____ dot com, thank you and if there is ever anything that I or my farmyard friends can do for you and your family, please DO hesitate to ask, because, after all, we are like family now, and who really wants to ask the people who probably love them more than anyone else ever could, for help.

Also, please sign over your email address to me in order to avoid any future confusion with things like payments, after all, you wouldn't want some of "my" hard-earned and fully solicited contributions going into "your" account.  Or, just cancel that sucker, or transfer it somehow, to me and my cronies (is "cronies" a chicken word?  Hold on, let me just goog-, no it's not, I repeat, not a chicken-related word, apparently.  Even though it really sounds to me like it should be.  Tell you what, '_________'at _____ dot com, if you or any of your doubtless wonderful and fine family members or associates can research the roots of the word "crony" or "cronies" and then get back to me if you do happen to find any trace at all of poultry in its roots, well, other than maybe that part o' poultry that's used for fertilizer (OMG, Big Chicken, that was offal! Cackle, cackle,  Thank you, I'll be here all week.  You know, I just flew in and, no, that one's been used.  Bear with me, you guys, because I'm just "winging it" here.  heh heh.  I'm a fledgling.  Oh, that was good.  That was a good one.  Hang on, hang on, wait a minute, I've got one, my turn, my turn, you guys, quiet!  No, it's gone now.  Oh, but that was a good one, you gotta admit, that was good one.  Ahhhhh.  Aha.  hmmmmm. )

So,  in closing, '_________'at _____ dot com, again I would just like to ask and fully expect that you , a person I do not even know, would gladly give up what's yours just for the sole purpose of having it be mine.  Do we have a deal here, '_________'at _____ dot com?  Please, do not make me ask again.  Or I will crush you.

Yours in blackmail and oh, no, that was not intentional, but it sure was pun.  No, I know it wasn't technically a pun,  but, okay, I am getting tired here and would love to quit typing and maybe go have some breakfast and then go have some fu- I mean, go meet with those high-powered executive-type friends and associates of mine and make big deals, deals that will, over time, add up to where I can have more than three hundred dollars in my savings account.  Which is really not that much in today's economy, if you ask me, even if it was through no fault of my own that I got myself into this mess.

So.  Again, in closing, '_________'at _____ dot com (and I feel like I've really gotten to know you since I took up all of our time together talking about me, we should really do this more often, it has just been grand, a real pleasure, thank you, well, no, you should be thanking me because, after all, I AM the one who has done all of the talking), please let me know what you think about my offer, or demand, rather.

I remain
Your
Big Chicken

Okay, getting back to the rest of you, my flock of one, counting, one follower (even though I know there are more of you silently visiting this, my vibrantly feathered blog, because I have already made once cent, that's right, one cent profit on the advertising.  Hm?  That's not profit?  Doesn't count as profit until after all the bills are paid, huh?  Well, when is that going to happen?  Haha, I know.  Hm.  Let me give this some thought. Tell you what.  I will revise that last statement, the one before the ones immediately preceding this one, actually, to read, "-my vibrantly feathered blog (I know that needs work, and I really wanted to use 'plumage' but it just didn't sound right with an -ed on the end.  try it.  'plumaged.'  see?  doesn't work.  shame, really.  what's up with the punctuation and capitalization?  well, how should I kno- would you stop interrupting me?  Yes, you di- There, you just did it again.  No I won't because you know why?  It's like, every time we talk lately, you're not even listening to me.  I don't care if you think I'm selfish because, you know what, when it comes down to it, it's just always about you.  Isn't it.  ISN'T IT?!!!  Look, I'm going to hang up no- stop interrupting me.  STOP INTERRUPTING ME.  Listen, the other phone's ringing, I gotta go.  No, really, I gotta go.  Yeah, love you, too, bye. [click] biddy.)  Oh, revised sentence.  That could mean some more work.  Tell you what, I'm just going to leave that sentence as it is now, and as it was before, and as it ever shall be, yea, for all eternity, so DON'T MESS WITH MY SENTENCE, I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT AND IF YOU DO IT AGAIN, I AM NOT GOING TO BE THIS NICE ABOUT IT.  SO YOU BETTER DO IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME, BECAUSE THERE ARE NO SECOND CHANCES.

Oh, yeah, profit.  Well, sadly, not yet.  But, highly trained market analysts (that would be me) have advised me that the flow of money and talent and connections and supplies will increase just as soon as I tell you all, lovely, dear, dear readers, what it is that I need and how you can send it to me or how I can come pick it up from you or what-have-you and then also in direct proportion to the amount of time and effort I am willing to put into this.  Which, if you have been paying attention at all, and I am pretty sure you have not, which is why I am saying this to you today, (stop looking out that window.  Why?  The class is in here.  Me, up front.  Eyes up front.  Look at me.  Me.  Look At Me.  Your Class Is Not Outside That Window.  That Is The World.  You Are Not Ready For That Place Yet, So Open Your Electronic Notebooks And Tell Me Who Was The First Person To Discover America.  J_______.  Columbus?  Very good, J______.  What a smart child you are, that's right, that's exactly right, Columbus was, indeed, the very first person to discover Amer- What's that, M_______?  Native cultures?  Where did you- Do you parents know that you are watching information stations at night?  Let me just write them a note here, because honestly, M_______, you're being disruptive, is what this is, and I am not going to tolerate it.  Now, so, for the test- No, of course they were not conducting brain surgery in Central or South America hundreds of years ag- how could they?  No other people in the world, at no other time in history, were ever as smart or accomplished as we are now.  And, that's disgusting, so don't bring it up again.  Fine, M______, you leave me no choice but to put your name on the board.  That's the bell, do your homework, be here at four tomorrow instead of four-fifteen because we need to finish this history lesson on Columbus.  Ancient cultures, native civilizations.  Honestly, where do the kids get this stuff?  It's not from the books they provided for us in school.

Beep Babeep babeep beep beep
This just in - The Big Chicken, that is to say me, or I, rather, would like to say what a beautiful day it is and I can say that now because I can see it through the window there.

Furthermore, the Big Chicken is very hungry, yet again.  Happens every morning, but still surprises this chicken every day.  It's like Boo!  Only louder.

In addition to the furthermore, or subsequently, shall we say (altogether now, on ah one and ah two and SHHHHHH!  I am trying to work here and I really need you guys in my head to be quiet for a little while.  Well, it's just that you're really disruptive and plus, I need to eat.  Okay, be right back  I'm just gonna go scratch around in the yard and see what I can find.  Ooooo, oooo, bug!  Score!  You know what that would be good in?  Oatmeal.

Oh, hey, you remember that checklist I promised, the one I was going to give to you so that you could help me help you to laugh?  Eventually?  'Cause that's the point here?  Or, wait, let me change that.  Bk-bk-bkaws that's point here?  Oh, no you didn't!  Oh, yes.  I did.  Anyway, regarding the checklist, I'll put that up here tomorrow.  What's that?  Priority?  Okay, fine, I will do that one today.  Later.  First, I need to go eat, and then I need to go get some "inspiration" at the coffee shop, oh, and then I am going to maybe meet those people who do animation and see if they might be interested in working on a chick flick.  Get it?  A Chick flick.  You can see now why I can't get a regular job, right?  Clearly.  Well, I could get one, actually, I do already have a regular job, so what I should say, in actual fact is this, and that is (you guys, I have written and read wayyyyy too many technical documents in my life and it just finally drove me over the brink and straight into crazy-land.  What can I say, I cracked!  Oh, no, oh, no, does that mean that I have egg on my face?  Ah, yeah, say it with me one time: "crazy!")  Although, I keep a lid on it for the purposes of getting back into therapy while still having the freedom to roam about unfettered by straight jackets and roller skate across this fair land.  Ok, ok, I just thought of something, we could have one scene where the chicken, that's me, is wearing a straight jacket.  Wouldn't that be funny?  No, I just mean the visual aspect of it, because- Yes, I realize the serious nature of the circumstances surrounding the actual reasons that some people need to wear those things.  Why do you think I have chosen comedy?  And, if you said it's because I never was good at my day job - You Win!  That's right, you win.  Win, win, win.  Doesn't that feel good.  You won it.

Okay, now what?

Oh, apologies, that's right.  I can tell already that they are going to be an integral part of this, so let's practice, shall we?  Here, I'll go first.  Ahem.

"The producers of this fowl flick would like to extend to you, the writers and editors and publishers of textbooks across this great land for the apparent callous and insensitive remarks made by the Big Chicken about an important figure in American history just a few long paragraphs ago.  Even though it most assuredly feels like ages to you now, rest assured, ladies and gentlemen and so forth, that the remarks were, indeed, made just a few paragraphs ago.  To that end, we, the producers and all of our families and friends, would like to extend to you this branch (not the sharpened one, put that away, put that away H_______, right this second or else I will- That does it, go to your office) would like to extend to you this branch, ripped from the living tissue of an olive tree just a few short moments ago, as a symbol of peace.  That's right, ripped from the living tissue of...listen, could someone else spot the irony or whatever that is, because I am really getting tired and my arms hurt and I just want to go home.  Okay, I am lying because I am home.  Work from home.  Right.  Back to complainin' - I want to stop working because my arms hurt.  They don't.  I'm lying.  Actually, I can think of nothing better to do than to sit here in my place, all "cooped" up, so to speak, and type out really long and boring messages to you, cosmically delicious reader.

As I was saying, I would love to sit around and finally finish that apology like I said that I would do, but first, I really need to jump up and squawk very loudly and flap my arms around which I can't do right now because honestly, when I told you back there that I was working from home, I lied.  I am working in a public place.  Well, semi-public.  We'll just call it secluded.  But, there are people here, and I can't very well let people see how kooky and crazy I really am.  Well, could I?  I mean, that would be almost as bad as posting a big, ornate, attention-getting sign saying "CRAZY, THIS WAY---->" where the arrow is pointing at me.  So, instead, I just write stuff on this here blog, because, as everyone knows, this computer that I am writing on, or typing, rather, is my computer, my hard drive, my screen, my house (lie.  There it was again.  I lied.  Gotta call myself out on this stuff or else it'll just snowball again, and, in the end, like I said before, that just leads to more w#!&.) my semi-public place, so, as we all know, and when I say we, I mean "me" here, this stuff is just between you (and when I say you, I mean me here) and me, but mainly me.  I mean, it's not like this stuff is ever going to get out and circulate and be read by other people.  Heaven's no!  Oh, my god, could you imagine?  That would be horrible, after all of the offal things I have said.  (<------did you get that fertilizer reference back there?  Just felt it was my duty as the Moderator of This Blog to point that out to you.  And over here, we have the RSS Feed, or the Chicken Feed, as I call it, and over there, we have the Proper Email Address to Use When You Want to Contact Me About Sponsorship or Jump Onto This Here Crazy Freight Train in Some Other Way Form or Fashion, but there again, only if it's money.  Or food.  Chickens and roadies can get very hungry.  Or supplies for the journey.  Or lodging.  Just, don't email me with moral support.  I already know that you are out there and that you support this endeavor and that you can't wait for me to come to your town and you're crying already because I am willing to do this thing that you could never bring yourself to do, and I appreciate knowing that, but please do not clog my email box with your soppy and soporific letters of support and encouragement because I think that we all know by now that I am never going to be reading those things anyway.  Unless you have attached some money, because otherwise how else am I ever going to get there to you to bring you all this joy?  Things work out, you say?  Guided along by unseen hands?  Oh, sure, I've heard that one before.  Synchronicity?  Oh, now that is such a funny word.  I love it when people say that word because it just sounds so true and so marvelous and my oh my, oh, my, my, my.  Bring it on.  And if you really want to write me a letter of encouragement, please do.  I was just kidding back there.  Just trying to be funny.  Because, you know it, I know it, we all know it and that is this: I need all of the help I can get. 

*Regarding Columbus - While I am sure that Columbus was undoubtedly a very fine person and a downright intrepid explorer, no, you know what, I cannot in honesty say that because I don't actually know the guy.  Like my opinion on that matters anyway!  However, what I can say is that not knowing any of the parties who were involved in that particular series of events so long ago, I can in all certainty say that it is absolutely, positively none of my business what someone else's ancestors are doing today.  Because, when you think about it, as I oftentimes do (that was another lie, because I am just thinking this part up as I go)we are all just ancestors in the making.  All of us that is, except for those few people, such as myself, who have chosen up to this point, not to have children, and after all, aren't you glad for that?  Whew!  I am, too.  Because I am allergic to kids, a fact that I have alluded to before in a very grand and very funny posting on Craigslist some time ago, a few days back.

Also, regarding textbooks, even and especially the electronic kind (which I have yet to use for the first time) and teachers, and all of those writers and editors and publishers and so forth who have worked long and hard to bring us information to know and to use.  I thank you.  Because, without all of your hard work, I never would have had the chance to make fun of your efforts here today.  And I mean that from the bottom of my plucky little heart, because I realize now, having said all of this, that the last thing that you ever want to do when you're asking for help from someone, is insult them.  It just doesn't work and I can easily see why.  That being said, I am now willing to enter into contract with the writers, editors, and publishers who see the value in the work I do.  We'll do it auction-style and start the bidding......now!

Anyone?

Anyone?

This is the Big Chicken with a reminder that the footage on this blog (I know it isn't footage, but that reads better than "text") is uncut and raw.

That's right, getcher raw, uncut, chicken here.  Oh, and if you or any one of your gorgeous and glamorous friends wanna get their raw, uncut chicken here tomorrow, why just come on back and we'll visit again.  No, no.  No salmonella threat here.  Why?  Because you don't actually eat this kind of chicken.  This is simply food for thought.

zbigchicken at gmail dot com that's with the z before the b because it looks very funny in the English language

The Government Pen That I Stole

The message that I am typing for you today was originally written up, or laid fresh this morning, with the government pen that I stole.  Now, I have mixed feelings about this because, even though it is one mighty fine writing instrument and tool, it clearly says "U.S. Government" on the side, which serves as a constant reminder to me that I stole from my country.  (A country that I happen to love deeply because, even with it's shortcomings, it is a country of vast resources, wealth, and opportunities.)

That being said, when I was doing work for this one government agency a little while back, as an employee (which I bet it's finally making sense to you now why I am crazy today), but while working for that one agency, and we'll just call it the ________ Bureau (because I've always wanted to use that blank line [that is to say, this thing right here---> ______] as an ode to Hemingway, although maybe it should really be considered an ode to Hemingway's editors or publishers because I'm wondering if he really cared that much about deleting or omitting curse words that he obviously initially wrote into the story anyway), so when I was doing work for the _______ Bureau, I just really liked this pen and so, when my time was up, I kept it.  And it was a real internal dilemma, because I try, for the most part, not to steal, but this time I just gave in, threw caution to the wind, and kept this wonderful little ink pen.

The part that confuses me is this: this is a pen that was bought with money that was collected "voluntarily" from me and my family and friends (those of my friends who actually pay their taxes and I'm not gonna name any names here, but ______) by a government that is run by the people and for the people.  I'm sure I heard that somewhere once.  But then, taking something that is not mine is stealing, and that's wrong, and I know that, so it tortures me still.  Maybe torture is too strong a word here.  It bugs me, is what it is.  Every time I use it, which is often, because it is a good pen, which is surprising in and of itself because you know how (and maybe you don't know how, but this is my understanding of how it works, and I'm just making stuff up here but here goes) the government will go with the bottom-dollar contractor, even if the product or service is inferior, just because "they" (which is really "us," if I understand anything about how our government is supposed to work) have to answer to "us" (i.e. the taxpayers, which should probably include "them," too, but I'm guessing that sometimes it don't**.)

Where was I going with this?  And if the taxpayers (we) think the officials (us, or them - no, wait, grammatically that, too, would be "we," if you follow me, although "they" are really in charge of "us" - how did that happen?) overspent, there would be hell to pay.  Namely, a lot of grumbling on radio talk shows and by water coolers and in newspapers nationwide.  So you can see how bad the consequences could be for the agency that decides to go with something other than a low-bottom bid.  Even though the government, that would be me, you, us, them, also hires highly trained, highly skillful, highly paid persons (who happen to also be members of the U.S. [sometimes, usually], or "us," as it were, which technically fulfills the promise of security since it provides jobs) to make sure that the chosen contractors also have the skills, resources, and abilities to do the job at a rock bottom price.  Which is actually a very good deal and a smart way to do business.  I see your point.  My point eggs-actly.

Oh, yes, and so the products are often-times inferior as a result.  Well, not this time, because, as I said before, this is really a very fine and solid pen.  Good ink flow, nice weight.  It's just about the best pen that my money didn't buy, although technically it did because I do pay taxes.  Always have, and always will, until I can enter that hallowed realm way up high where attorneys and tax accountants, working together, can "do something about that" for me.  It's a beautiful thing, this pen, and, if I remember correctly, it is the only thing I ever stole* from this our Great, Great Land.  Okay, there was a pad of paper, too, but you would have lifted that thing, too, if you were a writer like me.  Which you're probably not, because, at this point anyway, you have chosen instead to become one of the flock.  That's right, you have chosen in your infinite beauty and wisdom (because you are,  in addition to being smart, also very good-looking, especially since you took the time to preen your feathers this morning, and I just have to say that you always look incredibly cute when you do that-)

Not that I would ever notice those kinds of things because I am One Big, Hulking, Scary Chicken that Stole From Our Government, so don't mess with me, fool, because I will crush you like I did not crush that town of the same or similar name that never came through with the dough.  I am still planning on crushing that town, I just haven't told them yet because one, I didn't want to hurt their feelings, and two, they still may come through with funding so I'd rather they not see how crazy I am.

Yet.

Hey, if you like what you see here and you want to see more, well, first - pay your light bill, because you need the power to turn your computer on and, while I know times are hard and we're all cutting back (except for the super-elite, oh, well, maybe they decided to fore-go buying that one island this year, and really it's none of my business how they spend their money anyway, I guess it just hurts that so far, they haven't showered any of that wonderful wonderful cash on me, which is probably a good thing because have you ever smelled a wet chicken?  They [we] can be a little stinky.  Which is one of the many, varied reasons that I rarely bathe), still, you really need to think that one decision through.  I'm not saying don't not pay it, just think about it first, is all.  Then, let me know how I can help you, lovely reader.  Because, after all, that is what I am here for.  Well, that and the abuse.  Yes, the verbal abuse.  Oh, and the insanity.  Right.  That's true.  And the money.  (P.S. - please send some) But just remember, when you're pointing your finger at me here, that, on a spiritual level, I am really a reflection of you.  And, my goodness, you are looking handsome today, so what does that make me?  Dashing.  That's what.  So, again, I thank you and as ever, I remain your

Chicken

*I am not saying I never stole, only that I don't remember what it is I stole.  Which is a lie.

**haha, look, I tricked you by putting the double asterisk in the text prior to the single asterisk.  How could you be so gullible?  I ALWAYS get you on that one.  You'd think a person would have learned at least that much by now.  Tell you what, come back tomorrow, I'll have a nice, orderly array of asterisk-esess, all laid out for your inspection (get it? laid?  get it?  huh? huh? huh?   When you do get it, pass some of it my way, please, because I think it's pretty apparent by now, or should be, rather, that this stardom hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.)  Ok, the real double asterisk note follows.

**OOOOOO,HOOOOO, slam!  I gotchu again, and this time I wasn't even trying but you just fell right in to that.  Kidding aside ('cause I am very very hungry and need to go have a big bowl of, what's our favorite food now, ladies and  wheat germs?  That's right...Oatmeal!  Oatmeal, oatmeal, a wonderful filling treat, oatmeal, oatmeal, it tastes like sweaty wet feet.)

Here's the real deal, double asterisks included:

**Regarding the blatant mis-use of the word "don't" back there, wayyyy back up near the start of this riveting internal and yet amazingly typed monologue:  if you ever spend time in the southeast (U.S) and get to know the really smart and wonderful people who live there, you'll find at times an almost defiant mis-use, or breaking of the rules, of grammar.  But don't think for one instant that that makes the person you are talking to a fool.  Because then they might also get drunk and kick your butt.  Listen, I know it's crazy, you know it's crazy, but that's really how it works so we should maybe just try to respect each other, is all I'm saying.  Like, T______, you are not going to get me over there just to kick my a!%.  Don't tell me you didn't think it, cause I heard you laughing alllll the way over here.  Who said I was a chicken?

Honestly

...otherwise, I am sane enough to function in the world, which is what I told the first guy, or town, rather, that I asked for money way back a week ago.  Actually, what I told him, them, it, the town, was that I was not, in fact, crazy.  Just because I want to dress up like a big chicken and roller skate around the country does not mean that I am crazy (chicken skating is not a crime).

The things I think, the words I write, and the actions I take are really what prove otherwise.  The proof is in the pudding, after all or, in this case, the omelette (could someone spell omelette for me here?  Thanks.)  Getting back to the letter I sent to the town to ask them for money, the one in which I assured that nice fella, without even a twinge of guilt (because I'm a sociopath), that I am, indeed, quite sane, a fact that, if you have read any of the rest of my very wholesome and fortified blog, fluffy reader, will make you laugh so hard that you may snort...stuff...like, oatmeal, say...out of your nose.  (This is a reminder - Again, and I realize that I have never told you this before, but, again, please do not eat or drink when you read my Highly Acclaimed [highly acclaimed by me] blog.  It just simply is not safe.  Furthermore, it is dangerous.  Listen to your mother.  That's right, she's the one who told me to say that, so don't look at me.  Really, though, I tell you this because, ultimately, I think she probably does have your best interest at heart.  Even though her actions sometimes, usually, well have always, really, proved otherwise.  You should listen to her because she loves you.  Even though her council may at times be like, you know, lunacy.)

Which brings me back to telling the guy (town) I was sane so I could ask them for money when it's pretty obvious when you've seen me (person dressed up like a big chicken {or will be once I get the suit} roller skating across this Our Great Land), or read even a few sentences of anything I've written, that there is, after all, a whole lot of crazy splashing around all over the place which is what happens when you're (and when I say "you," I mean "I" here, so don't take it personally), so when you're crazy, it's probably because you haven't been to therapy for a while.

Really, though, that's the thing about lying.  Once you've done it (and when I say "you've," I mean "you" here), once you've said it, well you just gotta hang in there and make up a whole bunch more stuff and then it snowballs and you've (note: you've) got to shovel that s%#! (mixing analogies here, bear with me) at which point it turns into work, and that's really the last thing any of us ever wanted.

So, the moral of the story?  Don't lie.  Because lying ultimately leads to more work.

Oatmeal

For years I said I wished I liked oatmeal but, honestly, I'm glad I don't, because it's disgusting.

Beep babeep babeep beep beep beep

This just in - The Big Chicken (that is to say "me," or "I," rather) would like to apologize for the apparent callous and insensitive, even ignorant, remark made in a prior post (I lied, it was this one), regarding a wonderful, warm, filling, nutritious and highly shelf-stable cereal of the breakfast kind.  Furthermore, the BC (that would be me, or I, rather) is in no way apologizing to the politely feathered  readers of this very, very, very humorous blog , or to the general public at large, just because of the threatening letter (email) he just received from the National Oatmeal and Other Breakfast Cereal Council (that would be the NOOBCC), which is in no way, by the way, influenced by the policies of the National Growers Administration (NGA), even though that is where they receive a predominance of their grant funding.  From. 

Ahem.

Again, I would like to say that I'm sorry.  Yes.  That's right.  Very sorry.  That it sucks.  That's right, oatmeal, I am looking at you.  Oh, yeah?  Well, bring it on, oatmeal!  Who's your daddy now, punk?  Say it.  Say it. 

That's what I thought.