I continue to be fascinated by my flock. There are so many questions in my head that remain unanswered. How do the eggs form? How does the rooster fertilise the egg? If he does that when the eggs are inside how in god’s name does that work? Does the poor little hen constantly feel like her private parts are a mess due to expelling hard round objects? Do the eggs form after they come out and how in hell’s name does that work? How do the little chickens know when it is time to come out of the eggs or does Mum give them a sign? If she gives them a sign how do they know what that sign is and how does she know when to give them a sign? What if a chicken is mentally challenged and does not understand that you are meant to crack the egg open for your chance at life? I could actually sit here all night and ask myself endless questions about my chickens. Imagine if I started with the rest of the world. I simply would not have time to get anything done.
The obvious thing for me to do would be to google it and I would have all the answers at the end of my fingertips. But do you know what – I don’t want to google it. I don’t want to know. I like being entertained by the mysteries of life. I actually like not knowing how the egg forms. It adds a whole new dimension to the inner life I have created in my head for my chickens. I simply don’t want to google. Fuck you google. It is nice not knowing. I think we suffer from information overload and ease of accessibility sometimes. Then to add to that, everyone has a smart phone or some sort of device which assist them in accessing all this information that we simply could not live without.
Once upon a time if you were in a group and wondered out loud as to how exactly is an egg formed, people might put in their two cents worth, there might be a little discussion. If you were all pissed there might even be an argument, but at the end of it all no-one would be any wiser, unless you are mates with a smart arse who knows it all. Which is probably why you are drunk – because of the smart arse know it all. Nowadays if you wonder anything out loud someone is likely to whip out their smart gadget and proclaim to the world, “I shall google it.” At the same time they will see something on their facebook feed and in two minutes everyone will be looking at screens, you will know how the egg was formed and there will be no mysteries left for the evening.
What is really sad is you probably couldn’t have that stupid but endlessly pleasurable conversation now about “what would you take if you were going to live on an island for the rest of your life and you were only allowed five things.” Chances are someone would google it and tell you what the best five things were and the most popular five things were and it would all be ruined. I am not against technology. Modern advancements are an amazing thing, but occasionally I wonder if we have forgotten how magical a mystery can be. Like wondering if Regina has permanently sore lady parts. Stuff like that.
Fuck you Fennel
I had great ideas for something to do with Fennel tonight but I must admit I did not get around to it. Some days just do not turn out as planned.