Here's the new place - in all its burglar bar glory. The across-the-street-neighbor's rooster enjoys roosting in the tree next to the house. When he's a-roostin', there's nothing he likes more than to be a-crowin'. And when he's a-crowin' in the tree next to the house, it sounds like he's in the kitchen. The first neighbors we met were the next-door neighbor kids. They asked, "You movin' in next door?" Yes... "Hope you like roosters." Insert maniacal laughter here.
In fact, Chad had a run-in with a rooster in his youth. Tried to peck an eye out... and may have suceeded if his granddad hadn't stepped in. So, no. Not big fans of roosters. But this guy has been keeping us company through the ups and downs of our demo, and we've started to have some affection for him.
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(to be read to the tune of "Keep On Struttin'" by the Meters)
What a nice website you have. It reminds me of the first time I watched an entire episode of "This Old House" with Bob Vila. That's when I knew I was an ad-ult. But most of all, it is the only forum for me to notify the public of the eerie, nay freakish, paranormal phenomena that is, how do you say?, going down in this piece. First, this "web blog" is in English. That is my primary language! Second, my previous residence was located across the street from "das rock haus" as the shingle proclaimed. From what I gather the original owners had the surname "Rock." As the house was constructed of wood, this seems sensible. But note the eerie, nay freakish, spelling of what in America we call a "house." It is used here, as well. Perhaps the Teutonic settlers who hewed das rock haus were kin, i.e., belonged to the same "tribe" or "clan," to they who, from the primordial ooze, summoned the termites of the field and the cupboard-making elves of the distant sweden to create this "rooster haus"? Why the hell not? As Al Gore has proclaimed, the most sensible explanation is often the rightest (and in the context of an administrative appeal, this constitutes more than a mere scintilla--by just a smidgen but still), so there you have it.
But what sends my bean a'roiling is the opportunity to hold forth on the subject of roosters. They have come to play an important and sinister role in my own existence. Not just your Rooster Andrewses or your Foghorn Leghorns, I'm talking about that cock of the walk, that be-combed beast of the boulevard, the foulest fowl, nature's own f-ed up alarm clock. Keeping Austin weird or keeping you awake, the rooster is a creature that cannot coexist with man. That is one of those unfortunate facts of nature that is antithetical to symbiosis and vegetarianism. Not that you have to eat them. But that's another post. And no, I haven't been sleeping well. Thanks to the aforementioned hell-beast that, interestingly to no one, is NOT LISTED in my Concise Oxford English Dictionary. What's up with that?
Fowles in the frith
Fishes in the flood
And I mon wax wode
Much sorwe I walk with
For beste of bone and bloode.
As the saying goes.
Astros suck!
Roosters are Evil
(trad. – to be sung RAMBUNCTIOUSLY as a round to the tune of The Shanghai Chicken by Stephen Foster)
And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth.
And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and UPON EVERY FOWL OF THE AIR, upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea; into your hand are they delivered.
Genesis 9:1-2 (emphasis added).
Roosters: are they evil? In short, yes. This is both undisputed and indisputable and vice versa. The only mildly controversial point is the threshold question of whether any animal can be good or evil. Hmmm.
Once you have started down this anthropomorphic path (which ends in a T-intersection with Madness Street, aka Chicon), you will find yourself talking to your dog and/or writing very bad sentimental poetry with references to weeping willows that you will try to rhyme with billows but ultimately give up on and just go with pillows.
Since it is obvious I’ve given this a lot of thought, you just go ahead and trust me that roosters are evil. But if you want the QED, fine. Whatever.
Now any discussion of good and evil must first address God’s, or the gods’, or Ayn Rand’s, feelings on the subject. So from a purely theological perspective (doctrinal and spiritual, as needed) it is clear that God hates roosters. See, e.g., the Bible.
But even the most brimstone-bound atheist has no choice but to acknowledge that, apart from the question of God’s existence, roosters do exist, and that a thing cannot be its own opposite, it nec’ly follows that man is immortal and roosters are evil. See Utilitarianism; any dialogue of Plato that you haven’t read; and Marxism; accord the theme song to Green Acres.
If you are still of the false belief that roosters are not evil, then there is a good chance that you yourself are a rooster. In which case I can only say to you: “Shoo! Stop with your incessant crowing in my vicinity! The chickens already follow you around, I’ve seen them, so who are you trying to impress with that business anyway? You have been endowed with many fine qualities: a colorful plume, a handsome strut, not to mention that thing on your head. That is why you were selected to adorn many weather vanes. So why spoil it? I know this isn’t easy to hear but you don’t sing very prettily at all. Maybe all those tiy, no-strutting, thing-on-the-head-less songbirds are trying to make up for their own insecurity at lacking your previously enumerated finery. Don’t sink to their level. They got nothing on you, rooster. You aren’t evil. I’m sorry I said that. There is a fine line between love and hate and maybe I’m a little confused and even frightened by the strong feelings you awaken in me every morning at 3:30. After the incident at Mayfield Park with the peacocks, I’m just afraid of getting hurt again. I think we should be better friends, you and I, rooster.”
[silent awe]
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