Especially the poor shlub that is at the bottom of the pecking order. They often have a large percentage of their feathers pecked off of them by the rest of the flock. My grandparents had to 'harvest' the poor unfortunate in that position often thus moving the second to last into last place. Sometimes that particular bird had enough, um, balls - a quality lacking in House Republicans - to mount a sufficient defense to avoid being denuded. If not, they ended on the table also a little later.
On a practical note, a henpecked hen doesn't lay many eggs so it is best suited for the frying pan or stew pot.
In the end, no mater the status in the pecking order, they all tasted just as good..
On the plate.
Next to the mashed potatoes.
With chicken gravy. ;-)
If you want to be an angel, in this life, on this world, go ahead.
Be angelic. Be the essence of angelic. Harm no one, no life, no intention of others. Be perfect ...
You will still be just a cargo-cult impersonation of what you think an angel is. Something you’ve seen at great distance perhaps, just before the blessings arrived, in their packing crates.
You are, like all of us, a very imperfect mish-mash of animal lusts and cruelty, and a witness to infinities. Inside you is the awe and mystery that reaches to both the inner and the outer limits.
You are both the yin, the shadow of greatness, and the yang, the reflection of purity, neither dark nor light, but an immutable gray, a flipping coin, now heads, now tails.
You cannot hope to choose your destination. You are too much the insignificant mayfly for that. The best that you can do is to choose your direction.
In this life, and the next one, and the one after that, choose to try to be better, to be the best. The best you can be is within you to be it.