Welcome To The Chicken Hut
Nobody— and I mean NOBODY— knows how to kick off a bright sunshiny day like my mother. I mention this because the following email from her (entitled “Water”) is how I started my morning. She writes:
There was a piece on AOL this morning about drugs in drinking water. Luckily we do not have any at this time, but NYC has “Heart medication, infection fighters, estrogen, anti-convulsants, a mood stabilizer and a tranquilizer”.
My mother takes great delight extolling upon the superiority of her stomping grounds: New Mexico. If this location makes her happy, then I’m happy… because if she isn’t happy I will invariably hear about it. Often. That said, her attempt at scaring me backfired big time because she forgot the overriding and defining characteristic of my personality: my distaste for my fellow man.
Not only do I find placing mood stabilizers, tranquilizers and estrogen (if I have tits so should everyone else) in our fine city’s drinking water to be a sterling idea, but the only criticism I having is the dosage is way, way too low. The way I see it, fretting over drinking water is to overlook the manifold number of other downright disturbing things that inhabit terra firma. Things like this.
Meet the Spencer Street clown.
He has a skull for a second floor neighbor.
Lest any of you are unable to read what the robot in to the left is saying, I’ll transcribe it for you:
Robot no eat aborted fetuses but will eat human fecis (sic).
As you can clearly see, Guido’s Paradise is located on floor three and the Chicken Hut can be found on four. Curiously enough, there were no chickens whatsoever to be found on the premises. But this is not to suggest I left Bed-Stuy without seeing some fowl.
I have no friggin idea what this bird is or why it inhabits a public garden. It does, however, sport webbed feet leading me to presume it is some form of aquatic fowl. Maybe he is afraid of the chemicals in the water?
In any case, he’s a pretty mild-mannered fellow. His feline companion didn’t seem to mind him in the least.
I like to call this composition “Rooster With Coat Hanger And Office Chairs”.
Miss Heather
Comments
8 Comments on Welcome To The Chicken Hut
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bitchcakes on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 10:23 am
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queens crapper on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 2:28 pm
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missheather on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 2:34 pm
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bitchcakes on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 3:04 pm
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rowan on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 3:17 pm
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missheather on
Mon, 10th Mar 2008 3:32 pm
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me on
Fri, 28th Mar 2008 1:55 pm
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missheather on
Fri, 28th Mar 2008 2:01 pm
I’m not sure if this post was intended to be hilarious, but it was! From Mom’s scary email that backfired, to WHY it backfired and your suggesting that the dosage is too low, to the clown and skull, and finally the “bird thing” and bird/kitty cat photos. Thank you!!!!
By the way- Care to take a stab at why the outdoor office chairs have garbage bags over them? Is this to protect them in wet weather? Are they being used as (I-use-the-term-loosely-here) “patio furniture”??
That bird is a Muscovy Duck.
Thanks for the clarification Crapper.
bitchcakes: Yes, I do believe the garbage bags serve some kind of weatherproofing function. Office chairs are pretty popular for outdoor furniture down there. I saw two neighborhood gardens sporting them. They clearly understand the need for proper lumbar support better than the rest of us. Ergonomically savvy people, those Bed-Stuyers.
Thank you for that reply to my comment. I’m still laughing.
perhaps the garbage bags are to ward people off from sinister creepy-crawlies? though a helpful sign proclaiming “bedbugs” might be more effective. i agree with bitchcakes – this post was funny as hell, intentional or not.
For the record, it was intentional.
I heart Chicken Hut
long live nyc–not the suburbs my dear
ps Heather, balconies are for religious observances. Look it up.
I’m more of a Guido’s Paradise person myself.
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