Why did the chicken cross the road?
By Tré Taylor
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Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.
Forty-two.
Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.
Plato: For the greater good.
It was a historical inevitability.
So that its subjects will view it with admiration,
as a chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road, but also with fear, for whom
among them has the strength to contend with such a paragon of avian virtue? In such a manner is the
princely chicken's dominion maintained. Albert Einstein:
Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed
To actualize its potential.
If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken- nature.
Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its
Any number of contending discourses may be discovered
within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each interpretation is equally valid as the authorial
intent can never be discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!
Thomas de Torquemada: Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll find out.
National Security was at stake.
Because the external influences which had pervaded its
sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that it would tend to cross roads, even while
believing these actions to be of its own free will.
The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt
necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore
In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.
The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into the objects "chicken" and "road", and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.
It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic, unprecedented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an Herculean achievement formerly relegated to Homo Sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurrence.
The Fish.
It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.
Because it could not stop for death.
For fun.
It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.
The eternal hen-principle made it do it.
To die. In the rain.
We are not sure which side of the road the chicken
Out of custom and habit.
Cause it fucking wanted to. That's the fucking reason.
You tell me.
To live deliberately ... and suck all the marrow out of life.
The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.
To wander lonely as a cloud.
I didn't want its mother to see it like that.
Philosophy will clip a chicken's wings.
To see heaven in a wild fowl.
Jealousy.
Why, indeed? One's social engagements whilst in town ought never expose one to such barbarous inconvenience - although, perhaps, if one must cross a road, one may do far worse than to cross it as the chicken in question.
Hardly the most urgent enquiry to make of a low-grade insurance clerk who woke up that morning as a hen.
To have turned back were as tedious as to go o'er.
An die andere Seite zu kommen. (Much laughter).
That is not the question.
It was mimicking my Lord
Hervey. |
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