There’s this thing going around on the internet right now about hipsters and backyard farming. I think it started on Slate about hipsters abandoning chickens they own and that’s somehow bad.
I don’t know why that’s bad. I get why that’s funny, but I don’t get why that’s bad.
Hipster gets a chicken to be a hipster, hipster realizes chickens are fucking retarded and filthy, and abandons them. Hilarity!
The period of sheer hell that the hipster had to endure before concluding that chickens are a pain in the ass amuses me to no end. Sure, chickens are living, breathing creatures, but brothers and sisters, chickens are idiots.
So however you hipsters planned to do it with your chickens — whether you raised them in the back yard or kept them in your house — I thank you. Please keep doing it.
Until the sun blows up and engulfs our dear earth, there will be chickens. They’re so completely and utterly stupid we can almost literally breed them without their help. Think about that for a moment. There’s a species out there that we bred into the “never going away” category of existence. You’ve heard of endangered species right? These fuckers are the earth’s guaranteed-to-live species. If there is a category for “kill on site” on the endangered species list (it’s near the bottom, I’m sure), chickens and North American deer have top billing.
Here’s a humorous and spot-on article that deals with, in part, what a bat-fucking retarded species the chicken actually is (read number four).
Go read it. Really now, I’ll wait.
If you’re now joining us after having read both articles, welcome back. I have no idea what the hell I was talking about before you left. Scanning up the page a bit it seems I was pissed, or happy, about hipsters adopting and then abandoning chickens.
Yep, that’s it. I see it right up there. Hipsters adopt and abandon chickens, ha ha!
Well it is funny isn’t it? Actually the first story has much more than that in it. Backyard farming sounds about as smart as backyard stockcar racing to me. Listen hipsters: The urban American backyard has a clearly defined purpose in our modern society — to piss off whoever has to mow it on Saturday. Sure you can use it for you kiddie pools, your picnics or other fun stuff, but its main purpose it to destroy leisure time. It’s far too small for farming.
But let’s get back to the topic.
Now I concede that, yes, you can in a typical urban backyard raise chickens. I know, I’ve seen it done. I’d wager most of the people reading this have. There might even be a hipster right now reading this and thinking, “WTF dude, I’m doing it just fine.”
That’s because you’re a smart hipster. You’re likely even smarter than me. Stop congratulating yourself it’s not that hard. You’re smart because of one, two or both things. You either don’t have a rooster, you had a rooster and knew what to do with it or possibly both.
Now roosters, also called cocks (and yes, you’re welcome, I did intentionally skip a lot of dick jokes in that last paragraph), are truly fucking vicious birds. They hate, absolutely hate, other roosters. That’s why we have cock fights for the love of God.
See, I couldn’t avoid that cock joke. Sorry.
I spent a lot of spoiled-brat summers on my grandparents farm in upstate New York and I can tell you, with no authority whatsoever, that the man who wrote Deliverance was inspired by a chicken coop. It’s the same exact deal with the person who envisioned the prisoner scene from The Deer Hunter — totally inspired by a chicken coop. Both of these writers clearly knew chicken coops. That’s the only disorganized part of the farm. It’s fucking complete chaos in there.
Which, a million years later, brings us to the point of this blog. In order to have a chicken that lays eggs you do not need a cock. However, to have a chicken that lays eggs that eventually become more chickens and roosters, you definitely need a cock.
So hipsters everywhere — stop adopting chickens and abandoning them unless you know what the fuck you’re doing. Or don’t.
Fuck chickens, they’re going to outlive us.