I feel like babbling today. Why? I don't know. Sometimes you just feel like babbling with no purpose or goal. Forget spelling and composition and making a point or working an angle or doing your homework. I'm talking about pure babble.
Take free-range chicken for example. Example of what? HellifIknow. But it's something to think about, free range chicken. These are chickens that actually run around and strut and crow in the chicken yard before we kill them and eat them. They get exercise. My brother-in-law takes pride in serving free-range chicken. He's a doctor and works for the NIH, so you would think he knew what he was talking about. But it seems to me that if you were going to eat a chicken that you would want a more sedentary chicken, one that has spent her life in a cage getting fed without having to scratch. Wouldn't they be more tender? Sort of like Kobe cows that the Japanese raise and never let them out of the stall and give them massages every day and let them drink beer to fatten them up?
I wish somebody would put me in a cage and feed me beer and massage me. I would even let them eat me if they wanted.
Babble
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Lightning Rod
- Posts: 5211
- Joined: August 15th, 2004, 6:57 pm
- Location: between my ears
- Contact:
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Lightning Rod
- Posts: 5211
- Joined: August 15th, 2004, 6:57 pm
- Location: between my ears
- Contact:
mnaz, I used to have some friends who would buy big sacks of chicken feed. The stuff had amphetamine sulfate in it. They would soak it out and extract it and sell it on the street. Talk about free-range.
Wired, have you ever eaten turkey eggs? They are about as big as a baseball and they have three yolks sometimes, always two. I used to buy them in Austin for three cents apiece. Just one was an omlette. Richer than chicken eggs.
Wired, have you ever eaten turkey eggs? They are about as big as a baseball and they have three yolks sometimes, always two. I used to buy them in Austin for three cents apiece. Just one was an omlette. Richer than chicken eggs.
l-rod, i did a documentary on cock fighting, the dude was so proud of his free range cocks and there mates...nice guy, i'm not sure i beleived half of his readsnons for why cock fighting should be legal but whatever...anyways, he gave us some free range chickien eggs. fucking heaven lightingrod, fucking heaven.
i love babling, i could talk all day esp if its about music.
i love babling, i could talk all day esp if its about music.
Blah!
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
No babble just rabble today
thinking about process theology and processed meats
eating Spam and Vienna sausage
I had a vision I was in a car wreck
twised metal the smell of gasoline
shreded flesh and shattered bone
pain beyond feeling
oh why lord why
and then a whoosh
as the gas ignited
and answered all my questions
***********************************
I love this poem
Chicken, by Kim Addonizio
Why did she cross the road?
She should have stayed in her little cage,
shat upon by her sisters above her,
shitting on her sisters below her.
God knows how she got out.
God sees everything. God has his eye
on the chicken, making her break
like the convict headed for the river,
sloshing his way through the water
to throw off the dogs, raising
his arms to starlight to praise
whatever isn't locked in a cell.
He'll make it to a farmhouse
where kind people will feed him.
They'll bring green beans and bread,
home-brewed hops. They'll bring
the chicken the farmer found
by the side of the road, dazed
from being clipped by a pickup,
whose delicate brain stem
he snapped with a twist,
whose asshole his wife stuffed
with rosemary and a lemon wedge.
Everything has its fate,
but only God knows what that is.
The spirit of the chicken will enter the convict.
Sometimes, in his boxy apartment,
listening to his neighbors above him,
annoying his neighbors below him,
he'll feel a terrible hunger
and an overwhelming urge
to jab his head at the television over and ove
thinking about process theology and processed meats
eating Spam and Vienna sausage
I had a vision I was in a car wreck
twised metal the smell of gasoline
shreded flesh and shattered bone
pain beyond feeling
oh why lord why
and then a whoosh
as the gas ignited
and answered all my questions
***********************************
I love this poem
Chicken, by Kim Addonizio
Why did she cross the road?
She should have stayed in her little cage,
shat upon by her sisters above her,
shitting on her sisters below her.
God knows how she got out.
God sees everything. God has his eye
on the chicken, making her break
like the convict headed for the river,
sloshing his way through the water
to throw off the dogs, raising
his arms to starlight to praise
whatever isn't locked in a cell.
He'll make it to a farmhouse
where kind people will feed him.
They'll bring green beans and bread,
home-brewed hops. They'll bring
the chicken the farmer found
by the side of the road, dazed
from being clipped by a pickup,
whose delicate brain stem
he snapped with a twist,
whose asshole his wife stuffed
with rosemary and a lemon wedge.
Everything has its fate,
but only God knows what that is.
The spirit of the chicken will enter the convict.
Sometimes, in his boxy apartment,
listening to his neighbors above him,
annoying his neighbors below him,
he'll feel a terrible hunger
and an overwhelming urge
to jab his head at the television over and ove
Last edited by stilltrucking on September 9th, 2005, 6:37 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
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