Responsibility is my Brother's Middle Name, Not Mine

Hello Everyone and Welcome Back Once Again to Big Chicken Radio: the Only Radio Program Brought to You Totally in Print.

This week, on zbigchicken:

Pigs on wheels, flying mammals, Big Chicken Radio (yeah, right, how many times have I heard that one before?  Hey, you don't have to be mean about it.  Okay, alright, enough, already.) bugs, and more insanity - all comin' atcha.  Right here, on the Big Chicken Broadcasting Network.

Hey, remember the other day when I was showing off about having more than one computer monitor?  And how I made a big deal out of it, because it is only like the coolest thing ever?  (Next to me.)  Well, ever since that day, one of the monitors hasn't been working.  Coincidence?  I think not.  No, Viewer, I, a slighted chicken, am here to say before all of you now, that I believe that this is the result of some fowl plan to foil my show and bring about my ultimate demise.  And I bet I know who's behind it and I bet it's that one baby momma who found me once again here on this blog.

(Reminds me, I may need to change this address again soon.  Why?  No reason.  Really.  Okay, fine, one word - garnish.  No, not as in food.  As in wages.  I can't very well let her find out where I'm working again.  Because you know what that would mean.  That I would have to pay money to support all those kids I've been having.  And I am not about to do that.  Are you crazy?  Why should I?  I mean, "What have those kids ever done for me?" is all I'm saying.)

Anyhow, now she's posting comments alleging "performance problems."  ( you can read her scathing comments at the bottom of this post here http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2010/10/big-chicken-radio-world-premier.html)

Let me just be the first to say, Reader, that this is nowhere near the actual truth of the matter.  True, I did give up my long-held dream to be a hill-billy hobo fighter pilot, but it was for her that I did that.  And you would have, too, if you could've seen the miracle of those genetically-modified...thingies.  Everything I did, I did for her.  I gave her all those babies.  I gave up my dream for her.  I went to the store to get her smokes, even though I don't ever have those myself anymore, and even though technically I never got them and brought them back because I just blew out of town because of all those kids and plus I was tired of the all the racket, but anyhow, the idea that I had to go to the store - hey, wait a minute.  I just realized something.  I'm explaining myself here.  And do you know what?  I don't have to.  This is my blog, and I can shirk my familial responsibilities here if I want to.  You know why?  Because this is my man cave, girl, so don't mess with me here again.  I mean it this time.  Don't make me get a restraining order against you, because I will do it.

Your Big Convoluted Chicken-Meister