Posted on 12/05/2010 4:31:02 PM PST by mandaladon
“Just moments before he was running around like a chicken with.....”
That's funny, I was looking for a chicken-choking joke.
“everyone can eat little green crackers.”
lol. good one.
Humans: 40,000,000
Chickens: 1
Years ago the media was all over the working conditions in poultry processing plants in the US, specifically the South. Lots of missing fingers & hands, poor working conditions etc. Don’t remember hearing about missing heads.
I understand the fingers. Not sure how he managed to lose his head.
The taliban would pay an arm and a leg for this machine.
well obviously the chicken industry should be shut down and everyone can eat little green crackers
*************************************************
Karma’s a bitch
‘not on anybodies list of good ways to go.’
You have a list of good ways to go?
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)
“Mr Singh’s brother, Harry, said that Sarel had migrated from India four years ago ‘in the hope of finding a better life in Australia’. “
At least they didn’t write he had migrated to Australia to get ahead in life. I’d expect it from today’s media.
Mr Sarel Singh - Tastes just like chicken!
I suppose they are going to need more volunteers to clean up after this guy's clean-up job.
I wouldn't miss it a whit. I hates chicken with a passion.
You are right. This thread is disheartening. I wonder how many of these people claim to be Christians.
God Bless this man and his family.
Making light of an industrial accident is not good Freeper decorum. Karma can be a B.
Heads will roll.
MMmmmm, little green crackers topped with crunchy fried toenail.
I agree. This thread will probably be pulled.
Oh Johnny rohbeck oh Johnny robeck how could you be so mean
Lying in a hammock, in the shade, on a beautiful sunny summer day. Reading a good book, while nibbling from a box of chocolates; the sweet perfume of flowers wafting on the breeze.
A beautiful, attentive and talented lady massaging my, uhh...yes—FEET; that's it, massaging my feet.
A slow alcohol drip in one age withered arm, a soothing morphine drip in the other, gently laughing at the muffled sounds of 27 outraged husbands futilely trying to enter the compound....
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