For dhick’n soup! What? It could’n hoit!
The chicken had been watching Medium, and she wanted to “cross over.”
The coyote had put a sign over there, saying “Bird Seed.”
Because Ray Charles said to hit the road.
To prove to the raccoon that it could be done.
To wield a 1920s Style Death Ray against the witless masses.
To get away from Kirk. And you don’t want to know any more than that.
To lay it on the line.
Because the light was green.
Hemingways answer:
To die. In the rain.
Haiku
Chicken crosses road
Farside joke in the making
Avoids falling sky
FML
To get from post 18 to post 26.
I always laugh at these Soviet inferences, and now I can’t even remember why :mad:
To avoid the tainted feed and get that USDA seal.
Because it couldn’t cross its fingers
Why didn’t the chicken cross the road?
Because it was chicken!
I heard a slightly different Hemmingway version: To die. In the rain. Alone.
See here.
Eszterhazy had long made a habit of keeping several enquiries in progress, in some manner or other, simultaneously, hopeful to inoculate himself against the sense of ennui and listlessness that often ensued upon the successful conclusion of an enquiry. And on this morning, while attempting to concentrate his mind on the far more pressing (indeed, to be sure a matter of national security and international tranquility) matter of the theft of the Cyprus Regalia from the Crypt of St. Sophie, he found his attention inexplicably but inexorably diverted to the mystery of the Chicken Who Crossed the Road. It would appear to the casual observer that the worms and corn were as abundant upon the Hither Side of the road as upon the Thither Side, the gravel bits as bright and appealing, the hens as plump and complaisant. Yet Eszterhazy, he more than many others, could readily empathize with the creeping restlessness that could make the near and comfortable side of the road appear stale through familiarity, the unknown far side an inviting field of discovery and possibilities. Just so, but it would be an error of sophomoric dimensions to assume, without more evidence, that a course of action appealing to Eszterhazy might be similarly appealing – or appealing for similar reasons – to a Gallus gallus. As he selected from his humidor, clipped, lit, drew, and meditatively puffed upon a Trichonopoly cheroot, Eszterhazy ruminated (ruminated? aviated? gallicated? brooded? nay, not brooded) upon the words of the so-called Baconian Addendum to the Malleus Maleficarum: “The mind of a chicken is not the same as the mind of a man.” And that, indeed, might well be the answer. But, Eszterhazy wondered, to which question?
– From “The Avian Conundrum,” by Avram Davidson
42!
Why did Douglas R. Hofstadter cross the road?
So that I could ask this question.
For fowl purposes. HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW.
Because it was stapled to the dead baby.
No soap, radio!