How I miss the days when green was a color and not a superiority complex. Listen, losers. It’s lame enough that no one these days will buy a house without it being zoned for a fucking chicken coop in the backyard, but a modernist Chicken Crib? I hope you die. Really. I hope you move into your fucking bungalow with your hipster spouse and your kids named Flannery and Pope, try to sustain your pathetically self-conscious lifestyle on a diet of twigs and rocks and chicken eggs from your own backyard in DALLAS or BROOKLYN or NOT GODDAMN APPALACHIA, THERE IS A GROCERY STORE TWO BLOCKS AWAY and die a slow, painful death from malnutrition. And then I hope your chickens fly the coop and eat your corpse. Because processed mac and cheese is fucking delicious. EVEN THE POWDER KIND.
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This kind of psychotic rage… well, it just makes my day.
Thanks. It makes my cardiologist very rich.
Ha! Flannery! I know hipsters who named their kid that. You guys slay me with the hatred. Well played.
Thank you! Now go punch your hipster friend in the dick.
My folks live a bungalow in GODDAMN APPALACHIA but they named me Jesse (not Pope, I’d have to kick my own ass) and we can’t have chickens because, as daddy says, even local the government’s run by a bunch of fuckin’ capitalist pigs. Do pigs and chickens not get along well together?
I don’t know about pigs and chickens, but you and FourBeerMilky up there should probably have some sex and squirt out little milk babies.
I love chickens. I love modernist coops. I love the eloquence.
I must die, because I friggin’ love this.
Continue doing the job ,wonderful employment!