I want to kill bugs, sir!

     
 

He Makes Me Laugh
2001-10-05 23:22:30


Pros from Dover
 
"Let's roll" was the last thing heard over a air-to-ground phone connection, said by one passenger to another, before the passengers attempted to retake the fourth hijacked aircraft on 9-11. Instead of gaining control of the aircraft and thwarting the hijackers, they succeeded in crashing the plane into the ground and killing everyone aboard, including themselves. A fitting motto if there ever was one.
-- Baron Earl (referring to George W. Bush's new national motto)

 

It is no mystery to many of you that I have an irrational little crush on Chicken John. He tickles my freak zone something fierce. He is the ultimate freak magnet. He inspires me. He is a gawdam GENIUS! Anyone who can coax a frat boy on stage to flaunt his third nipple HAS to be.

Don't let him fool you. He is a thousand points of Elvis. He does everything on purpose. That bungling loser act is just that, an act. He is a calculated and deliberate showman. He puts the Carny back in Carnival. He puts the Ring back in Ringleader. He puts the Big back in Big Top. He puts the Master back in...okay, I'll stop. The point is, he does what he wants without taking shit from anyone. He pushes the envelope just to have a good story to tell. He boldly goes where no man would ever want to go in their wildest dreams and turns it into entertainment. For example, he recently undertook the arduous task of purchasing the Odeon. He whipped out his balls and became a business owner. Just like that. Gawd BLESS him! A few dollars worth of glitter, some original show posters and a new stage later and we have our very own freak show seven nights a week. I LOVE this dive.

Looking like a cross between Austin Powers and Cary Grant, Chicken saunters into the bar. Impervious to the massive throngs, he tends to business. He turns on the juke box, heads for the closet to retrieve the cash drawer, checks a few switches, and steps behind the bar for a clandestine chat with the bartender. He exits as smoothly as he entered only to return in a new get up ready for the night's festivities. He shouts, "Hey you tight wads. The least you could do is cough up a dollar and play the juke box."

Unfortunately, Chicken is having a rough go of it. Due to a light sleeping, punitive neighbor who would rather have the coke dealers and crack whores return to their front porch, Chicken has been side swiped by the litigious mainstream. Although I'm confident that upon reviewing the good faith efforts being made to placate the sleepless citizen, the judge will toss the entire case in the circular file cabinet: the Odeon needs all the support you can offer. If you own or rent in Bernal Heights, or you are an avid Chicken John fan, sign the appropriate petition. Even if you're one of the folks unhappy with Chicken John, sign the petition to ensure he doesn't come to your neighborhood. In these times of tenuous civil liberties, the Alter Natives need a community center now more than ever.

Meanwhile, that freaky punk rocks my whirled. When I grow up, I want to be JUST like him. Plus he has a GREAT wardrobe. So come on down to the crossroads of Mission and Valencia to experience the light, the wonder, the chaos that is Chicken John (just don't touch him). Oh, and if you want to know more about the club controversy go here.

Over.  End of Story.  Go home now.

jared@pigdog.org


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