My wife’s parents were Jewish European refugees who met on the boat in 1939. Most of the rest of both families did not get out. The few who did survive, some with ugly tattoos on their forearms, are scattered from Buenos Aires to Hiafa. So she and I, understandably I think, take extreme umbrage to equating chickens to people and I am getting pissed. I've probably got one more good war left in me so if these freaks want to get physical I, for one, will be more than happy to oblige.

By the way; if chickens could eat us they would but they can’t so we eat them.