Have You Heard the One About...
Life's Little Lessons
It was a moonless, black, rainy night in the heart of the Texas Hill country as I hugged the hairpin curves of the two-lane blacktop, earnestly striving to make it to my appointment on time. Fall had descended a month ago and the black silhouettes of the dormant mesquite trees were the only thing outside of my truck's narrow high beams that I could discern. That is, until I rounded yet another sharp left bend in the road and saw, there on the right shoulder, standing half in and half out of the brown weeds, a chicken.
I'm cruising at between 50 and 70 mph depending on the length of my straightaways, I'm fifty miles out into the middle of nowhere, the windshield wipers are at full throttle and still I'm squinting to see the road, my mind is already at my meeting with the client, rehearsing the whole thing beforehand: and then suddenly there's...this...chicken.
For the next single second, everything went in slow motion. The chicken was as startled to see me as I was him, and if it's at all possible to do, his already wide open eyes opened wider. His head cocked slightly upward and for a millisecond I'm sure that our gazes met and We both mentally uttered a startled "wtf"? And then it happened. In the heat of the moment the chicken judged that the best thing he could do was run for it, and run he did. With the perfect timing and course of an ICBM he launched himself from the wet brown grass and out onto the pavement. His head low and chicken legs flailing wildly, he managed to hit the gravel on the other side of the road just as I reached him, and was swallowed up by the dark, wet scrub without having lost a single soggy feather.
It's at this point where my entire view of my very existence was altered, with everything I thought I knew and understood brought into question in one gleaming singularity. It was at this moment when a question formed in my mind and then asked itself of me before I even had a chance to evaluate whether or not it was valid: "Why did the chicken cross the road"?. What I had been utterly conditioned to regard as nothing more than a silly childish joke suddenly held deep philosophical meaning and actual, serious context in my personal existence. What should have been a joke was now sobering, and became the first falling domino within what I thought was a very secure, stable, and understood state of being. "If this isn't a joke, what else isn't a joke"? "If this isn't a joke, what things considered to be serious actually ARE jokes"?
I have since recovered from that moral dilemma that came upon me suddenly at the bend of a dark rainy curve several years ago, but the lesson learned has always stayed with me: question everything. Never just accept a thing because it appears to be one way, but always maintain a certain amount of reservation that other possibilities are just as relevant.
And the answer to the question of "why did the chicken cross the road"? Dude, he desperately wanted to get to the other side! No joke.
Doug out.
I'm cruising at between 50 and 70 mph depending on the length of my straightaways, I'm fifty miles out into the middle of nowhere, the windshield wipers are at full throttle and still I'm squinting to see the road, my mind is already at my meeting with the client, rehearsing the whole thing beforehand: and then suddenly there's...this...chicken.
For the next single second, everything went in slow motion. The chicken was as startled to see me as I was him, and if it's at all possible to do, his already wide open eyes opened wider. His head cocked slightly upward and for a millisecond I'm sure that our gazes met and We both mentally uttered a startled "wtf"? And then it happened. In the heat of the moment the chicken judged that the best thing he could do was run for it, and run he did. With the perfect timing and course of an ICBM he launched himself from the wet brown grass and out onto the pavement. His head low and chicken legs flailing wildly, he managed to hit the gravel on the other side of the road just as I reached him, and was swallowed up by the dark, wet scrub without having lost a single soggy feather.
It's at this point where my entire view of my very existence was altered, with everything I thought I knew and understood brought into question in one gleaming singularity. It was at this moment when a question formed in my mind and then asked itself of me before I even had a chance to evaluate whether or not it was valid: "Why did the chicken cross the road"?. What I had been utterly conditioned to regard as nothing more than a silly childish joke suddenly held deep philosophical meaning and actual, serious context in my personal existence. What should have been a joke was now sobering, and became the first falling domino within what I thought was a very secure, stable, and understood state of being. "If this isn't a joke, what else isn't a joke"? "If this isn't a joke, what things considered to be serious actually ARE jokes"?
I have since recovered from that moral dilemma that came upon me suddenly at the bend of a dark rainy curve several years ago, but the lesson learned has always stayed with me: question everything. Never just accept a thing because it appears to be one way, but always maintain a certain amount of reservation that other possibilities are just as relevant.
And the answer to the question of "why did the chicken cross the road"? Dude, he desperately wanted to get to the other side! No joke.
Doug out.
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Re: Have You Heard the One About...
I had a similar experience where I came face-to-face with a classic joke. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere with nothing in sight but an old farmhouse. I trekked to the house, and lo and behold, a stunning young lady answered the door. So the farmer's daughter offers to let me stay the night... ok, I am full of crap, this is my made up Penthouse Forum letter.
Posted by Mr. Wisdumb on October 13, 2007 at 5:44 PM