Shicken Chit

While out and about the other day we scored a “family pak” of chicken wings at a stupor-market in a town not so dinky as the one in which we live, one of those places with “customer loyalty” cards enabling us to sell our privacy for a few bucks per visit. I’ve often wondered if they are, in fact, a family of Pakistani chickens whose wings I’m buying, but that’s another matter entirely.

The wings were intended for consumption on my buffday, which is of course the anniversary of the day I invented streaking in 1961. I was unaware at the time that it was not an original invention, due to the fact that I was also unaware at the time that I was not an original invention.

Yesterday I hauled the remains of some former family of chickens out of the refrigerator and hacked ’em up… “jointing”, it’s called, but that sounds a bit too much like something Solberg would do first to the cabinetry beneath and then to the housewife (of a particularly willing nature, of course) perched upon, and I’ve no desire to do such things with any one, a portion of, or even an entire family of dead chickens. It all went as expected until I lifted the styrofoam hearse within which the murdered family’s limbs made their final journey in chicken form and found that it seemed way too heavy for the hauling of corpses and more like an armored car for the hauling of money.

The label said that the net weight was 5.33 pounds. I weighed the limbs in question at four pounds, two and a smidgen ounces. The hearse containing a thing more closely related to a used disposable diaper than anything else one might readily bring to mind weighed one pound, six and some fraction ounces.

The packaging stated “Contains up to 15% of a solution of chicken broth, salt, and carageenan”. Hmm. I bought a diaper loaded with boiled garbage and completely non-nutritive (and potentially harmful) boiled seaweed for $2.49 per pound and the only possible use for it is landfill. Energy was consumed to produce, ship, and account for useless garbage.

The myriad examples of capitalism’s efficiency are truly wondrous.


2 thoughts on “Shicken Chit

  1. solberg73

    1) Happy Birthday! ‘You should live to 120!’ as we say here.
    2) I suddenly realized that, in my world of real or fictional woes here in the troubled middle-east, I read and enjoy (see point 3) your posts yet epic-fail to allot time to comment.
    3) This gem, among others, has a deep point garnished with zingers to-die-for:
    I loved the ‘Family-pak’ speculation. The ‘am I unique??’ insight on the streaking 60s, and the musing on ‘jointing’ as a word-choice, among others.
    I’ve studiously ‘accepted’ about 6 plastic bags so far this year. Every-where I shop the folks know already not to even offer one to that weird ‘anti-bag-lady’ Yonatan.
    Not sure how or when we’ll return to the days when if you wanted a chicken (and didn’t raise it yo-self) you took it home carrying the thing by the legs.
    Main point: I’m gratified to see you surviving, sane and healthy, for the first half-century-plus of many more. Mazal Tov!

    1. happierheathen Post author

      Thanks! If I’m going to live that long it’s going to have to be in a place where few go intentionally and none by mistake. That’s always been my genetic inclination anyway, but this has been a very bad year for the world and the biggest mistake of the year ain’t even been made yet.

      Many thanks for the kind flowers, my friend. Keep your head down over there in them trouble middles of things.


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