Oh MAH gad. How can anyone ever THINK of having something as déclassé as a CHICKEN right in their very BACK YARD??
Dear Pseudo-Elitist Fucktard:
(I call you a “pseudo” elitist because if you were truly elitist you wouldn’t be blogging for a living, eh?) You pathetic, whingy infants make me ill, with your dirt-shall-never-touch-this-manicure sensibilities. Just how do you suppose you reached your current ivory tower-esque height, little man….by springing forth from the forehead of a convenient deity? No, your foregoers tilled the land, husbandried the animals, GREW THEIR OWN FUCKING FOOD.
And they did it all, somehow, without being sneering, contemptuous asstards. I’m sure they’re looking down on you from Valhalla right now, wondering why your parents failed to raise you with anything resembling respect for those who work so hard to provide everything you snap up weekly at your local Whole Foods. Think all that just falls out of a gigantic horn of plenty, do you?
Having chickens in the yard does not automatically mean “poor,” nor does it mean “survivalist nutbar.” I would have chickens in a heartbeat if our lot size was large enough to meet the local livestock codes, because fresh eggs ROCK, you nard. And – I know this is going to be a difficult concept for you to grasp – things you’ve grown yourself (seeds you’ve started, plants you’ve tended, fruits you’ve harvested, livestock you’ve nurtured) JUST TASTE BETTER. It is partly because the results are “fresh off the vine,” and partly the intense satisfaction of having bygod done it yourself.
But I can see how the latter would be a completely alien concept for you, seeing as how it requires getting all DIRTY and stuff.
Signed With Hooting Derision,
Liberty Girl
