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My cousin showed me how to hypnotize a chicken about a hundred years ago - he put its head under its wing and gently rocked it to and fro and the set it carefully on the ground where it remained motionless until he nudged it with his foot.

No dumber foraging animal has succeeded in history and that only because it is fit to eat after much labor and its eggs are as nearly 100% nutritious as any food known.

I watched my 75 year-old grandmother tie an old hen to a clothesline and whack its head off with a butcher knife on a dead run to avoid getting spattered with the blood from its flailing neck; about 15 minutes later when Grandma had decided it was time, she eviscerated the beast and plunged into a huge pot of boiling water, then snatched it out, plopped down on a chair outside the kitchen door and plucked feathers and pin-feathers for the next 11/2 hours.

After all this, my nostrils alive with the stench, she smiled indulgently at my displeasure, rubbed the carcass with salt and pepper and put it on the stove to cook.

I ate a lot of bread, butter and drank a lot of milk that night.

I can't believe no one has posted this yet...

February is Hate a Chicken Month

By Nathan Porter
BSNN.net

This February is the third annual BSNN "Hate a Chicken Month." Hate a Chicken Month is a national holiday started by me to combat the alarming rise in chicken-worshiping animal rights weirdoes in this country. It is a month filled with stories and features about the most disgusting and insanely worshiped critter on the planet.

The History of Hate A Chicken Month

Any regular reader of BSNN already knows how I feel about chickens, but as there are new fans jumping on board every day, I want to inform the uninitiated why it is necessary to devote an entire month to hating chickens.

Back in the pre-9/11 days of 2001, PETA enlisted actors Alec Baldwin and Richard Pryor to threaten Burger King into meeting the same animal welfare standards adopted by fast-food rival McDonald’s. The two demanded that Burger King franchisees meet or exceed certain standards for slaughtering cattle and chickens. Getting Alec Baldwin to sign on for this duty is not surprising. But I was surprised by Richard Pryor. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Richard Pryor speak out on anything of this nature. His face, which looks like an overly charred Whopper, would seem to make him the perfect spokesman for Burger King not against them.

“Regrettably, while Burger King has issued several statements, it has made no improvements whatsoever in the appalling living and dying conditions for the animals it uses,” said the letter, which was signed by both actors.

Now I don’t know whether Alec Baldwin or Richard Pryor are vegans, vegetarians or carnivores. Baldwin looks like a meat eater to me. And the last time I checked the FDA had not reclassified cocaine as a meat product, so I doubt Pryor has the time or occasion to eat meat.

Whatever their culinary persuasion, the Baldwin/Pryor campaign worked. In June 2001, Burger King announced that it would do all that McDonalds agree to do and more.

But now the good folks at KFC are in PETA's crosshairs for "refusing to implement some basic improvements in animal welfare that PETA has requested."

So in this environment of chicken loving, I decided to stand up as say, "I hate chickens." Say it loud, say it proud. The chicken-worshiping animal rights weirdoes in this country need to be countered by somebody. I am that somebody.

A Vegetarian Who Hates PETA

I am a vegetarian not because I love the animals most humans eat but because I hate them. I particularly hate chickens, the foulest creature on the planet. Why anyone would want to ingest such an animal is beyond me. But a lot of people do and I’m okay with that. Eat all you want, just don’t get all misty eyed ‘cause your critter du jour died an “appalling” death. As far as I’m concerned, chickens ought to be slaughtered in the cruelest way imaginable. What difference does it make in the taste of one’s chicken-part nugget if the chicken was at peace with its destiny when killed? As though once a chicken is dead it cares how it got that way. As though when it’s alive the chicken cares how it is about to die. It is a chicken. It is stupid.

What's appalling about a chicken is not its death but its existence. I live in a region where chicken farming is big business, and coming from farming people, I understand the need of farmers to meet the demand for this “meat” product. But chickens are disgusting. They are smelly and hideous little creatures that walk around clucking, pecking and shitting all day. I’m not interested in eating anything that shits, and I am particularly uninterested in eating something that shits the way a chicken shits. The Pentagon ought to look into chicken defecation as a possible avenue for missile defense. The force with which a chicken can blow crap out of its ass is astonishing, and I am certain that aimed correctly one of these chicken-shit missile interceptors could take out any number of incoming ICBMs.

Chickens: A Legacy of Hate

Like most things in life, my hatred of chickens comes from a bad experience in my youth. My 5th grade class was given the project of observing a chicken egg until it hatched then caring for the chick until the end of the school year. As the chicken grew its cuteness waned. It became nothing more than an ugly bird that let fly with the most explosive bowel movements known to animal kind. One day my chicken was sitting on my shoulder (I know, I was a weird kid) when it let go with the biggest dump of its rapidly shortening life. I was covered with chicken shit. Then I decided to conduct a little experiment. Would a chicken eat chicken meat? The answer is yes. I won’t be surprised if the first strain of “Mad Chicken Disease” is traced back to my little experiment.

As an adult I regularly encounter chicken trucks on the interstate. A tractor trailer full of stupid, ugly, excrement-covered chickens heading off to slaughter without a single understanding of what is to become of them. I often get trapped behind one of these trucks in traffic, forcing me to inhale that ungodly chicken smell while hundreds of smarmy creatures stare at me with their insidious, beady eyes.

Once in a while a chicken gets loose and falls from the truck, the usual result of which is a flattened chicken in the middle of the highway. Occasionally a chicken will survive its fall and end up clucking along the roadside.

One day while driving along the interstate I spotted a live chicken on an overpass. It was just standing there in that two-foot strip of concrete that separates the right lane from the concrete wall, looking aimlessly at the passing traffic. If it had walked three feet to the end of the overpass it would’ve had a clear shot at an open field, but the chicken just stood there. Why? Because it is stupid. Had I spotted him earlier I would’ve veered to the right a couple of feet and crushed him with my right front tire. Why? Because I hate chickens, and there is no such thing as an appalling death for a chicken…unless, of course, the dead chicken is eaten by a human. Now that’s appalling.

Of course, while Alec Baldwin and Richard Pryor were writing letters to make chicken and cattle killing a little less appalling, Hong Kong was killing all of its 1.2 million chickens in an effort to halt the spread of avian bird flu. The government effort was designed to stop the strain from mixing with other viruses that may harm humans. I wonder why Alec and Richard didn't send a letter to Hong Kong officials insisting that the mass killings be done in a manner that the chickens do not consider appalling?

Therefore, since we have established that the manner in which the chicken is killed ultimately does not matter to the chicken, for whose benefit is PETA imposing these standards of dying conditions? It must be for Alec Baldwin’s benefit and I fail to see why anyone should do anything to make Alec Baldwin feel better. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be living in France by now? After all, the national bird of France is a Rooster. Wouldn't it be appropriate for Alec Baldwin to live in a country whose national symbol of pride is a cock?

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I grew up on a farm. I know how dumb chickens are.