who cares

Chinese Woman Trains Chickens to Play Soccer

Studies show soccer roosters are almost three times as delicious

If you’re like me, the first thing you thought of when you read the headline was, “Bullshit.” And if you’re even more like me than you realized, the second thing you thought was, “Why do the Chinese always do the weirdest shit?” Both of those points are valid issues to take with the headline itself.

With these roosters, maybe China will qualify higher next time. (Hey-oh!)

But seriously, since I know you won’t read the article, this poultry match consists of only two players who use their feet and wings to handle the ball. Which sounds like bending the rules a little to me, but you’re already reading about roosters who play soccer, so…

The article also keeps referring to this person as “he,” even though she’s clearly a woman wearing Chinese mom jeans. (The headline also says “rosters,” so what are you gonna do.)

In other news, this reminded me of a story I had heard as a child, which I originally dismissed as an old wives’ tale (designed, I guess, to exacerbate my “Sleep Anxiety Disorder”). But I looked it up and it’s actually true. The Internet never lies.

There was a farmer who cut his chicken’s head off in preparation for eating, only to find the chicken still lived. And since I know you won’t click that link either, The chicken retained its jugular vein and most of its brain stem, leaving it capable of doing instinctual things like breathe, eat, and occasionally preen and (attempt to) crow. Since the trachea and esophagus were basically exposed to the air, the owners kept Mike’s windpipe clean with an eyedropper and fed him with a syringe straight into his gullet. The farmer traveled the country for a while making something like $50,000 in today’s money. “Mike the Headless Chicken” died one night when his owners were unable to clean his clogged trachea in time, leaving the bird to choke to death.

Mike, the 1945 money-making headless chicken, who probably caused dozens of copycat botched beheadings

So, in conclusion, chickens are either 1.) highly adaptable in that they can be trained in sports professionals do for millions of dollars a year, and even live on for several years with most of their heads missing, or 2.) they’re among the lowest on the brain activity scale and are able to do almost nothing for themselves, needing only the barest essentials of organs to do even complicated instinctual activities.

“Mike the Headless Chicken” also reminded me of the novel Johnny Got His Gun where the soldier slowly realizes his face, limbs, sight, speech, and hearing are all gone and he’s just “a piece of meat that keeps on living.” And as if that idea couldn’t get any more disturbing, the novel was made into a movie with Donald Sutherland, and also inspired the Metallica song “One;” a band so metal, they even have the word “metal” in their name.

So, what happens in the mind of a soccer playing rooster? Or in the medulla oblongata of a headless chicken? Could Mike have played soccer? Could the roosters have continued to play after losing their heads? Do they get angry with themselves when they lose? Do they fake injuries for superfluous indirect kicks like those pussy-ass Italians? Just because we CAN make a movie about something as disturbing as being locked inside your own brain, does that mean we should? Would Mike want his story told? Or would he just want to be glazed and rotisseried like any other self-respecting chicken.

Think about that the next time you get $0.10 hotwings, Monday nights at The Wild Goose on Lincoln Ave.

More Pictures

If you wait until this kid gets to the singing part, around 1:00, and stick with him until he really gets into it, 2:00, you’ll feel just like you were back in the 9th grade making out with Bethany Wilson in the dark at Judy Haynes’ birthday party.

I wish there was some sort of blind listening contest you could do with this clip. Let someone tell you it’s Whitney Houston’s daughter singing, or something. You would totally believe it until you saw the Thai Jackie Gleason in the tuxedo.

Also note: he clearly says “Whitney Houston, ‘I will always love you,’” which we all know is true, but the title card says “Dolly Parton.” We all look alike to them, too. I knew it. They can’t even tell black folk from white folk.

I’m sure I’ll eventually hear about what happened at the end of LOST, since LOST fans NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT LOST. But come on: sometimes the show is funny. And you know it.

This is a Sawyer “Son of a bitch” montage. I don’t know if these clips are in chronological order, but I don’t care THAT much. I just hope he keeps saying it for the rest of the series. It makes him look tough.

Like a cowboy.

Relax and stroke a cat. For $10/hour

Busy or stressed out? Now you can drink coffee and work on your laptop, just like at a Starbucks, except lots of cats will be there, too.

Japanese cat cafés, like this one in Tokyo called Nekobukuro literally translated “cat sack” *snicker*, are very popular and busy business people will take breaks to come have their blood pressure lowered by petting a sleeping cat.

Sounds pretty great. The best part is someone else has to worry about the boxes of shit everywhere; the main drawback to being a crazy cat lady.

Usually, cat cafés charge around $10 an hour for the privilege of cat affection (or rejection, depending on the cats’ moods), but they’re very popular among busy Japanese who don’t have time or space to devote to pets of their own.

Incidentally, there’s also a service where you can rent a dog to play with. It’s like g-rated prostitution for people without pets. And you can quote me on that.

I’m sure this transvestite sounds great in other interviews. I’m sure she just had a cold or something. Als0, I don’t speak a word of Portuguese, even though it’s apparently a romance language like Spanish, but I’m pretty sure she’s saying the same things over and over to each question.

“Who are you wearing this evening?”
“Boing boing.”
“What inspired you to be a superstar?”
“Uh, boing boing, and boing. Oh! And, boing boing.”

Don’t get me wrong; be whoever you want to be.  I’m all for the freedom of personal expression.

But.

If you’re going to do an interview on television, just maybe wait until your oestrogen, progesterone, or your ethinyloestradiol or whatever vocal chord scraping you’re having done as started working. Just an idea. Also, maybe learn to speak the language you’re being interviewed in.

Or have C3-PO translate for you while you say the same things over and over.
“…Because he’s holding a thermal detonator!”