Personally I like watching episodes of "Animal Cops" in New York when they confiscate all of these fighting birds and then kill them because they won't make suitable pets for adoption.
So when I was growing up in Maine, my dad's patients would occasionally give him Christmas presents, &c, out of gratitude. One year, this being Maine, these presents included a pot leaf encased in rosin to be used as a paperweight. Another year, this being Maine, it was fertilized eggs. We wound up 3 chickens and a rooster. We put them in the basement of our suburban home, and they grew. And got mean, and weird. And eventually, after the rooster violently attacked the roofer, they had to go to the same farm our violent, mentally-unstable last dog had gone.
The moral of the story is: What the fuck people, you're not farmers! Stop listening to Neil Young albums and fucking go to the grocery store.
I have one better: put deer licks on your backyard trees, stand in the bushes, and BAM! With a shotgun, you don't have to worry about missing and hitting the guy across the street.
Heck, you might even get a Reform rabbi to go along. How about it, guys?
If you live in a city with a lot of Latin American immigrants, you can go to a live poultry markets for a freshly killed hen and great eggs--IF you can stomach the smell. Also makes for a good makeshift chick zoo for toddlers.
LOL, everyone's turning into my dad. Here are a few more tips he would like to offer you: (1) Buy a gigantic freezer so that you can store wholesale sides of beef, (2) grow vegetables in your backyard and make your teenage daughter work in it constantly, thus destroying her chances of a normal social life, (3) have Mom can said vegetables until the pantry explodes from a Mason jar-botulism bomb, (4) hunt and kill deer and then hang them up and gut them on the backyard swing set. And then look for a new place to live.
Thanks, but I'll stick with the supermarket of the apocalypse, C-Town.
I actually said something there, but since I wrote it between little sideways carets, the internet monster ate it. Turned out well in a way and a little Dickinsonian.
The in-the-know suburbanites raise Guinea Fowl. They don't tear the garden up like chickens, they don't need coops and they're territorial so the neighborhood kids will stay off your damn lawn. Added bonus, they eat ticks and are mostly dark meat. Downside, noisy as hell.
As a city dweller, I commend these noble suburbanites. Sadly I shall never taste their delicious homegrown meats, as I will be dying in the coming plague.
I talked someone with many years of experience with the birds. She actually has hers quarantined from the rest of the world in a sort of sealed up aviary so they don't get infected with anything. (she says)
@so5minutesago: And a great idea, until Mommy has to explain to the kids why Daddy was in the backyard for so long with the meat cleaver and why Pecky the Pet Chicken is missing.
@WindowSeat: I've had chickens before, and after you have, you'll totally want to give them names, just to make it sweeter when you swing that meat cleaver. Chickens are evil and nasty birds. There's a reason we eat their young, people.
04/19/09
Somehow the chickens never look grateful.
04/18/09
She really doesn't like it when I chase them around and whisper "Buffalo sauce"...
04/18/09
And "Pets or Meat" would be an awesome name for a band.
04/18/09
The moral of the story is: What the fuck people, you're not farmers! Stop listening to Neil Young albums and fucking go to the grocery store.
04/18/09
Judd Nelson, is that you?
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Heck, you might even get a Reform rabbi to go along. How about it, guys?
04/18/09
Kosher meat is so damn rubbery.
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Thanks, but I'll stick with the supermarket of the apocalypse, C-Town.
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04/18/09
Your dad might be a good person, but I want to punch him.
04/18/09
@Uncle_Billy_Slumming: Chivalrous talk is rare and turns me on. I wasn't his slave for long; see Emily Dickinson, 1535.
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I actually said something there, but since I wrote it between little sideways carets, the internet monster ate it. Turned out well in a way and a little Dickinsonian.
04/18/09
When I lifted the Veil
I saw Nothing --
But a Swarm of
Enigmatic Words --
And an Army
of Cunning Avatars
04/18/09
The next thing you know, a man won't be able to lay beaver traps in his own yard.
04/18/09
(fingers crossed that this works)
04/18/09
[video.google.com]
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You sir provide useful information.
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I talked someone with many years of experience with the birds. She actually has hers quarantined from the rest of the world in a sort of sealed up aviary so they don't get infected with anything. (she says)
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This was thanksgiving every year in our family until the mid 80's.
04/18/09
That's right. Take a page from the serial killer handbook: Objectify your victim.
04/18/09
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