Wednesday, April 2, 2014

"What's the matter Colonel Sanders? Chicken?"

I made the finals in the 5 minute fiction contest lastnight.  Please stop by and vote.  You can read the stories too, if you like.  They are all very different.  It was a good prompt.

I have to make a decision about whether or not to stick with the new train station.  I’m actually a day overdue on that decision and will probably get in trouble with the conductor this morning.  Wish me luck.

Decision is made.  I will keep the new station.  I’ve seen several other people from the old station showing up the last couple of days and the parking lot is fuller.  I think things might be worse up north.

Found an interesting entry in Washington’s journal last night.  Thought you’d enjoy it.

August 8, 1958.  Mickyhollow, MS
Wonderful news.  I’ve sold the farm and am now officially out of the chicken business.  If someone ever comes to you and says, “You can make a million dollars with a chicken farm,” then you should look that man in the eye and say, “Balderdash.”

There are few creatures as vile and repugnant as a chicken, be they living or dead.  I for one will consider it to be too soon if I ever see the gizzard of a fowl again.

The young man that bought it from me – Frank Perdue’s boy, Frank, jr. – says he’s got plans that will change how America eats chicken.  Says he can make the million that eluded me.  Maybe he can.  And if so, good for him.  As for me, if I need to raise chickens to make a million I’d rather beg on skid row.

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