Chicken Philosophy

It's not new, but it's worth being reposted =)

 WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE  ROAD???

Plato:  For the greater good.

Aristotle:  To fulfill its nature on the other side.

Karl Marx:  It was a historical inevitability.

Machiavelli:  So that its subjects will view it with admiration, as a
chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road,
but also with fear, for whom among them has the strength to contend
with such a paragon of avian virtue?  In such a manner is the princely
chicken's dominion maintained.

Hippocrates:  Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its
pancreas.

Jacques Derrida: Any number of contending discourses may be discovered
within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each
interpretation is equally valid as the authorial intent can never be
discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!

Thomas de Torquemada:  Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll
find out.

Timothy Leary:  Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment
would let it take.

Douglas Adams:  Forty-two.

Nietzsche:  Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road
gazes also across you.

Oliver North:  National Security was at stake.

B.F. Skinner:  Because the external influences which had pervaded its
sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that
it would tend to cross roads, even while believing these actions to be
of its own free will.

Carl Jung:  The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt
necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical
juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences
into being.

Jean-Paul Sartre:  In order to act in good faith and be true to
itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.

Ludwig Wittgenstein:  The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into
the objects "chicken" and "road", and circumstances came into being
which
caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.

Albert Einstein:  Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road
crossed the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.

Aristotle:  To actualize its potential.

Buddha:  If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.

Howard Cosell:  It may very well have been one of the most astonishing
events to grace the annals of history.  An historic, unprecedented
avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement
formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable
occurence.

Salvador Dali:  The Fish.

Darwin:  It was the logical next step after coming down from the
trees.

Emily Dickinson:  Because it could not stop for death.

Epicurus:  For fun.

Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe:  The eternal hen-principle made it do it.

Ernest Hemingway:  To die.  In the rain.

Werner Heisenberg:  We are not sure which side of the road the chicken
was on, but it was moving very fast.

David Hume:  Out of custom and habit.

Saddam Hussein:  This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were
quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

Jack Nicholson:  'Cause it (censored) wanted to.  That's the
(censored) reason.

Pyrrho the Skeptic: What road?

Ronald Reagan:  Well,...................

John Sununu:  The Air Force was only too happy to provide the
transportation, so quite understandably the chicken availed himself
of the opportunity.

The Sphinx:  You tell me.

Henry David Thoreau:  To live deliberately ... and suck all the marrow
out of life.

Mark Twain:  The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.

Mishima:   For the beauty of it. The chicken's extension of its
sinuous legs sent shivers of a dark despair into the souls not only of
the silently watching hens but also the roosters, who felt a sudden
sexual desire for their exquisite comrade.  The dark courage of the
chicken was as beautiful as drops of dew upon jade at midnight, struck
by a partial moon, its light filtered through clouds. One of the
deeply aroused roosters could stand the intensity of the moment no
more and bit off the head of the beautiful, courageous chicken-hero,
whose wine blood was deliciously drunken by the road, and he died.

Johnny Cochran:  The chicken didn't cross the road. Some
chicken-hating, genocidal, lying public official moved the road right
under the chicken's feet while he was practicing his golf swing and
thinking about his family.

Camus:  The chicken's mother had just died.  But this did not really
upset him, as any number of witnesses can attest.  In fact, he
crossed just because the sun got in his eyes.

John Sununu (again):  I would argue that the chicken never crossed the
road at all.  That it is a story concocted by the Clinton
Administration to distract attention from their failed agriculture
policy. Where is the evidence that the chicken crossed the road?
Where, Michael?

Michael Kinsley:  Oh, John, come on!  Everybody knows the chicken
crossed the road.  What evidence do you need?  It's obvious that the
chicken crossed the road.  Your whole argument is just a smoke and
mirror tactic to distract us from the fact that most chickens polled
now back the Democratic Party.  You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
John.

Siskel:  I don't know why it crossed the road, but I loved it.  Thumbs
up!

Ebert:  I disagree.  The whole thing left the audience wondering; the
chicken's crossing the road was never clearly explained and the
chicken didn't emote very well.  It couldn't even speak English!
Thumbs down.

Michael Kinsley:  But you both agree it did cross the road, right?
See, John.  I'm right as usual.

Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

This is so true. Time goes by and we always think we are going to have more time. But we don't, and when we look back we wonder why we missed out on a opportunity. That may have been the one. People we lose, thoughts we ignore, things that seem to be irrelevant but nothing is irrelevant. Ever. And as we grow older maybe we start thinking we are going to grasp it, but only as we mature we really learn. We learn no to miss the starting gun and keep running because life is like a shark, it has to keep moving or it dies.
Why are we so scared of breaking away from the comfort zone? Why do we hesitate? Why do we try to escape from what we know is inevitable? Avoidance, Deflection, they aren't really solutions. Plunging headlong into what we want is. And sometimes it feels you are plunging into a 3ft deep empty pool. And still feels like drowning. But only then we are able to break free from hypocrisy and take stuff seriously. Only then we learn to control time.

Lazy and Fat/ Preguiçosa e Gorda

I'm always shocked when I see that girl wearing white, pulling toddler by the hand, while the mother walks some 3ft ahead. In Brazil, where unemployment rates have always been over whatever percentage has existed during the latter financial crisis, it is a widespread culture to hire young poorly-educated women to work as nannies and pay them minimum wage. On the one hand, it's a "favor" to these shantytowns' inhabitants, but on the other hand...
This generation's children have been brought up to believe that they pay everyone's salary - and therefore are entitle to rule these employees' lives. Students threaten teachers in private schools, "I pay your salary, my dad will ruin you".
This is not something completely new, however, because there has always been brats yelling, "do you know who my dad is?!" Bullying is nothing new at all, and while I was reading the great Ralph Steadman today I came across one of his many epiphanies, describing his concept for an ecology book, and talking about the evil cars do: "particularly those four-wheel-drive tanks that suck up gas like submersible flood pumps and throw up like dragons. They are usually driven by self-righteous little mothers, who are obsessed with getting their wretched offspring to school on time from about one hundred yards away from their homes. Like their children, they can hardly see over the dashboard and like their children they park as though they are in a ploughed field. They like to put a sign in the back window which says, 'CHILD ON BOARD'. (Huh? Which one? Driver or passenger?) I always want to add: "IDIOT DRIVING THIS CAR.' [Steadman, Ralph. The Joke's Over, pp 79-80]
We now live surrounded by gas-guzzlers here, what is an absolute contradiction when we bear in mind the fact that they are too big, pollute too much, and cannot be parked in any decent spot in a big city. In addition to the huge boats little mothers drive, they have these servants to do a job they either don't like, or don't believe they have time to do.
Why have women started to think they had to do all by themselves? Man's roles, women's roles? It's a fallacy. It burdens them way too much and one can only wonder the gloomy outcome of these practices.
So my food for thought of today is, "smaller cars, better mothers, improved society".


Eu sempre fico pasma quando vejo uma mocinha vestindo uniforme branco, puxando um rebento pela mão, enquanto a mãe anda uns 10 metros adiante. No Brasil, onde os índices de desemprego são mais altos que qualquer percentagem que houve durante a mais recente crise financeira, é uma prática comum empregar moças com pouca escolaridade para trabalhar como babás e pagar salário mínimo. Por um lado, é um “favor” que se faz, mas por outro lado...
Esta geração de crianças tem sido educada para acreditar que eles pagam o salário de todo mundo – e assim tem o direito de mandar na vida das pessoas. Alunos ameaçam professores em escolas particulares, “eu pago seu salário, meu pai vai acabar com você”.
Isso não é algo completamente novo, uma vez que sempre existiram moleques gritando, “você sabem quem é meu pai?!”
Bullying não é uma prática recente, e enquanto eu lia do fantástico Ralph Steadman hoje encontrei uma de suas grandes idéias sobre um livro ecológico, e ele fala do mal que os carros causam: “especialmente aqueles de tração nas quatro rodas que bebem gasolina como se fossem bombas anti-enchente subterrâneas e vomitam como dragões. Geralmente são mãezinhas cheias de si que os dirigem, levando seus pirralhos infernais à escola, que fica há 100 metros de casa. Assim como seus filhos, elas mal enxergam sobre o painel do carro, e assim como seus filhos, estacionam como se estivessem brincando com terra. Elas gostam de pôr aquele adesivo na janela, ‘CRIANÇA À BORDO’. (Huh? Quem? O motorista ou o passageiro?) Eu sempre quero adicionar, ‘IDIOTA DIRIGINDO ESTE CARRO.’ [Steadman, Ralph. The Joke's Over, pp 79-80]
Nós vivemos rodeados de automóveis beberrões, o que é uma total contradição quando percebemos que eles são muito grandes, poluem demais, e não cabem em nenhuma vaga de estacionamento decente numa cidade grande. Além das gigantescas banheiras as mamãezinhas dirigem, elas tem servos para fazer um trabalho que ou elas não gostam ou não acreditam que têm tempo para fazê-lo.
Por que as mulheres começaram a pensar que tinham que fazer tudo sozinhas? Trabalho de homens, trabalho de mulheres? É uma falácia. É um peso grande demais para ser carregado e não posso imaginar qual será o terrível resultado disso.
Então, meu pensamento do dia é, “carros menores, mães melhores, sociedade melhor”.

Analfabetismo Diet

Brócole??? Será que você come e perde neurônios, nessa dieta?

Witchhunt, baby-killer style

Just to voice my opinion on the excommunication of the doctors who performed the abortion on the 9-year-old girl who was raped by her step-father, as well as the girl's excommunication. Lucky them! Now they can live life free of the fear and oppression the Catholic Church imposes on people. I hope the Catholic Church keeps excommunicating everyone, until there are no more blinded fools by this millennial brainwashing institution. Only then people will hopefully live at peace! Amen.

Letter from an ashamed Brazilian

Aos Brasileiros lendo esta carta:
Enquanto este país não entender que jeitinho é uma tradução do idioma Brasileiro para o Português desonestidade, a opinião internacional sobre nosso povo permanecerá no esgoto.

P.S. - Lula, melhor se desculpar, já que foi apressadinho pra causar estardalhaço sem saber os fatos. O Sr. Presidente é um perfeito exemplo de brasileiro que gosta de uma muvuca, e não parece buscar conhecimento.


Dear Sirs and Madams of the Embassy of Switzerland,

I felt compelled to write to you because I had to voice my opinion regarding the outraging case of Paula Oliveira, the Brazilian who lied about being attacked by skinheads in Switzerland.
I know I cannot write in behalf of all Brazilians, after all the world watches Brazilian films and all they see is slums and drug lords, our political scandals are so often that we have lost count, and we export prostitutes to Europe as if they were commodities. However, never did I feel so embarrassed and so ashamed for once more the image of Brazil is tainted with this disgusting event.
I have been ashamed by Brazilians tourists throwing garbage on the floor, cutting in lines, trying not to pay for subway or bus rides, speaking too loud… I could go on and on about it.
It is deeply saddening to admit that most my compatriots do not realize that we are the culture of the country and we represent the name of this country, and therefore we must have zeal for it just like we have zeal for our own names. Maybe most Brazilians do not even care what image they show the world, but I am deeply concerned, and that is why I am writing this letter to apologize for such a hideous case that will add to Brazil’s tarnished reputation.
Please know that not all Brazilians behave in such a repulsive manner, and although I feel I have lost faith in my country, as a teacher, I will always believe in educating people to coexist in harmony, mutual respect and honesty.

Yours sincerely,


Caros Senhores e Senhoras da Embaixada da Suíça,

Escrevo-lhes esta carta porque me sinto compelida a compartilhar minha opinião a respeito do absurdo caso de Paula Oliveira, a brasileira que mentiu sobre um ataque por skinheads na Suíça.
Eu sei que não posso escrever defendendo todos os brasileiros, haja vista que o mundo assiste filmes brasileiros e tudo o que vêem são favelas e traficantes, nossos escândalos políticos são tão freqüentes não conseguimos nos manter atualizados, e exportamos prostitutas para a Europa como se fosse café ou cana-de-açúcar. No entanto, nunca eu me senti tão envergonhada e tão humilhada como agora, quando mais uma vez a imagem do Brasil é maculada por esse evento repugnante.
Sinto vergonha quando vejo turistas brasileiros jogar lixo no chão, furar fila, tentar não pagar o bilhete do metrô ou do ônibus, causar estardalhaço ao falar... a lista não termina nunca.
É muito triste ter que admitir que a maioria dos meus compatriotas não percebe que nós somos a cultura do país, que nós representamos o nome do país, e que portanto, devemos zelas pelo nome do Brasil como zelamos por nossos próprios nomes. Talvez a maioria dos brasileiros nem se incomode com qual imagem o mundo tem do Brasil, mas eu estou extremamente preocupada, e é por este motivo que lhes escrevo esta carta, para desculpar-me por esse incidente tão infeliz.
Por favor saibam que nem todos os brasileiros se comportam dessa maneira repulsiva, e apesar de às vezes eu achar que perdi a esperança no meu país, por ser professora, eu sempre acreditarei em educar as pessoas, para que elas coexistam em harmonia, respeito mútuo e honestidade.


Chers Messieurs et Mesdames de La Ambassade de La Suisse,

Je vous écris cette lettre parce que J’ai besoin d’exprimer mon vue concernant l’histoire scandaleuse de Paula Oliveira, la brèsilienne qu’a menti sur s’attaque par skinheads.
Je sais que je ne peux pas justifier tous les brèsiliens, puisque tout le monde regarde des films brèsiliens et tout qu’on peut voir sont les taudis et les dealers. Nos politiciens sont trop corrompus et nous exportons des prostituées comme s’elles soient le café ou la canne. Cependant, je n’ai eté jamais si honteuse et cassée comme maintenant. Encore, l’image du Brèsil est entaché.
Je suis honteuse quand des touristes brèsiliens jetent des ordures par terre, resquillent dans la file d'attente, essayent de ne payer pas par le métro ou le autobus, ... la liste ne se termine pas.
Je dois admettre que la plupart des gens ne se rendent pas compte de que l’image d’un pays déprenne de les citoyens et citoyennes. Nous devons garder notre réputation. Peut-être plusieurs de brèsiliens ne se concernent pas si tout le monde ont une vue negative du Brèsil, mais je suis très concernée, et pour ça je m’excuse pour cette terrible cas.
Pas de tout, il y’a des brèsiliens que se comportent bien, et quoique je pense que j’ai perdu l’espoir de mon pays, je suis professeur, alors je crois en enseigner tout le monde, pour qu’ils peuvent vivre en harmonie, respect réciproque, et honnêteté.

Worth Being Blogged

One picture is worth a thousand words. Two pictures then... should be priceless?