Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

And speaking of KFC --

Every chicken's dream --

From the Chicken Coop

I haven't done a poultry post for a while, so today's your lucky day! Here's the answers to all the poultry-related questions you've been dying to ask --

Question:

WHY did the chicken cross the road?

Answer:

Cluck you, buddy.

Question:

HOW did the chicken cross the road?

Answer #1:

At the crosswalk, of course, obeying all traffic signals.

Answer #2:

Riding in comfort IN a car.

Answer #3:

Riding in discomfort ON a car.

Question:

How did the chicken cross the RIVER?

Answer:

Isn't it obvious?

Question: 

What does it look like when you face-swap with a chicken?

Answer:

Creepy. Damn creepy.

Listen Up, Tom!

It's Canadian Thanksgiving today, so here's some free advice to turkeys from Mark Anderson of Andertoons about how to avoid The Big Chop!

There are several techniques you can try, such as --

1. Blackmail:

2. Bribery:

3. Playing on social insecurities:

4. Hightailing it out of town:

5. Lawyering up:

6. But if all else fails, Tom, take the bastards with ya:

Chicken Chat

When I was in Manitoba over the long weekend, I had the great pleasure of meeting up with another bloggin' buddy -- mrsduncanmahogany of October's November! We had a wonderful visit, discussing many shared interests and experiences in and around Winnipeg. Then we got on the topic of chickens.

There are many summer festivals in small-town Manitoba that are fun to attend but mrsduncanmahogany filled me in on a new one -- Chicken Daze! She blogged about it here too. It's held in a bedroom community just outside of The Peg called Oakbank.

For the life of us, we could not figure out what connection could possibly exist between Oakbank and chickens that would either justify or necessitate a summer festival but . . . who knows? Perhaps all the other good summer festival themes were already taken and only chickens remained.

Anyway, mrsduncanmahogany and I had a lovely time sitting in an air-conditioned cafe and having something cold to drink, because my gawd it was just like a blast furnace outside that day.  It's a little known fact that Winterpeg can be hellishly hot and humid in the summer. Depending on what time of year it is, Winnipeggers basically freeze or fry.

Speaking of frying, now I'm craving KFC for some reason.

What the Cluck?

Whistler's (Grand)Mother

I'm a darn good whistler. My brother taught me how when I was five. Having some natural talent for whistling, I practised incessantly and improved my technique with a nice vibrato effect learned from an uncle. But my whistling upset my Grandma, who was very much a product of the Victorian age in which she had been raised. According to her world view, whistling was simply not ladylike. Only boys should whistle. Girls should be quiet and decorous. Every time she heard me whistling, she would recite the following dire little ditty --

Whistling girls and crowing hens:
Both shall come to no good ends!

I heard that poem a lot when I was growing up. A LOT.

My Grandma was born on July 13, 1888. This year would be her 121st birthday, if she were still around. So on Monday, I'll whistle "Happy Birthday" in her honour. And I know what her response will be, wherever she is.