It’s a Metal Chicken
He’s free range for now, until I nail down his feet by our front door:
Maybe you want to point out that it’s a rooster? Yes, of course he’s a rooster, but still a chicken, and it’s clearly more fun to say, “metal chicken.”
I think a large part of the reason I bought this thing is because I’ve so enjoyed Jenny “The Bloggess” Lawson’s posts and pictures of her metal chicken, Beyonce. She makes it seem like so much fun to own a giant metal chicken. This is just a normal-sized metal chicken, but perhaps he will provide a proportionate amount of entertainment.
I’m not naming him, for the moment. (I briefly considered, “Conrad.”)
There was a larger metal chicken at the roadside gift shop. My wife wouldn’t let me buy that one. I have a picture of the three of us together. Me and the two roosters. I suspect The Bloggess would insert a cock joke here, but I’m not going to do that.
Because I don’t have to do everything that Jenny Lawson does.
My Kindergarten teacher, Ms. Overland, would be proud. It was in her class that I first encountered the bridge jumping argument. There we were outside, waiting at the door for the start of school, and a few of us decided that slamming our Lincoln Husky bags on the concrete would be a good way to pass the time. When Ms. Overland came out, she asked one of us, let’s say Johnny, why was he doing this? Well, Johnny was doing it because Billy was doing it. Further questioning revealed that Billy was doing it because I was doing it. I, in turn, was doing it because Jimmy was doing it. But did she go on to interrogate Jimmy about his motivations? No. Despite having this open lead in her investigation, she apparently had already decided that I was the root of the bag-slamming delinquency. She had no interest in seeing how deep the conspiracy went. (Typical bureaucratic behavior: Let’s cover this thing up before somebody important is embarrassed.) Ms. Overland started working me over: “Well, if Jimmy jumped off of a bridge, would you?” “If Jimmy set himself on fire, would you?” “If Jimmy sold arms to a terrorist state in order to secure the release of hostages and fund the military activities of rebels in Central America, would YOU?”
And I, as a kindergartner, was defenseless. It would be over ten years before I could blame Ronald Reagan and Oliver North for my arms-dealing behavior, and twenty or more years before I could get Ms. Overland fired for asking questions like this. I had to concede that I would not jump off a bridge just because Jimmy did.
Since then, I’ve learned nuances in my modeling behavior, where I can copy some examples, like buying metal chickens and writing blog posts about them, and refrain from copying others, like telling cock jokes.
You’ll have to read The Bloggess’s post, however, to determine if there really are cock jokes in it. Also there are links to more posts about giant metal chickens, and tiny resin chickens, and it’s all good stuff that you should totally read. I’m just happy to do my part in spreading the joy of metal chickens.