Dead Chicken Society

Sketch for a new country and western song, please feel free to add/edit/comment

2007-11-04T08:17:00.000-08:00

(all I have right now is a chorus, or rather the second chorus since you'd want to have this come up in the middle after some setup and fluff)

<>

...
Your mamma says I am psycho, she say's it to be unkind
but if she keeps on that way
I'll shove her head up her big behind
...

ok, take if from here folks, gimme some verses!

The Heart Beat of the Dead Rubber Chicken

2007-07-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

The Heart Beat of the Dead Rubber Chicken

Every day, as I sit and work

I hear Hurricane Catrina

Pound and destroy New Orleans

Every day, Hurricane Catrina

Roars from above

In hi-fidelity, IMAX surround sound

Every day, Hurricane Catrina

Beats the rhythm

Of the Rubber Chicken heart

Every day, I hear the Rubber Chicken's heartbeat

And I am forced backwards

In time to that

Every day moment

When I first heard

Catrina had whipped out New Orleans.

Every day, whoosh -- thump

I travel back in time

To Burning Man

Every day I would experience

Unbelievable events

And I didn't believe the stories

of the Rubber Chicken heartbeat

That destroyed an old port city

Whoosh -- thump

The Rubber Chicken has no heart murmur.

Aaronious 2007

The Dead Chicken Society is dead, long live the Dead Chicken Society!

2007-07-26T10:25:00.002-07:00

Marcella, thank you for this electronic revival of our old group, this is the best birthday present ever! A sort of automatic electronic defibrillator of chickens, bringing our little group back to life. Scientists need creative outlets too, or they can go boring.

-----

Lately, I have been writing show-tunes. I hate show tunes, and I haven't even really ever seen a show, but anyway, it just came out. Some students of mine taught me broadway dance moves, so you have to sing yourself this little ditty in an upbeat, plastered on smile kinda way. It is inspired by teaching biology up North in woods full of, well, you'll see. . .

-----

"Walkin in the Woods"

(uptempo, jazzy almost saccharine happpiness broadway style)

I have a tick- in my heart
over you!
You got me in your mandi-bles
like a foooooool!

(dancers enter, lindy-ball and chain with jazz hands)
A passerby I'm walkin'
but it's me you were stalkin'
you dropped in on me
right outa tha Bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuue!
Oops I got a tick, in my heart
I think it's you.

(dancers do fouettes during chorus)
I have a tick- in my heart
becaues of you!
You've bit into me
with anti-coagulant droooooool!

(dancers do scary forest creeping jazz interpretations, crawling lower until they jump up suddenly at 'surprise')
(slower, contemplative pace)
In life's murky for-rest
my armor turned out porous
You found a way in,
SURPRISE! Baby it's you!
I got a tick, in my heart,
what can I do?

(dancers do jazz squares, occassional chassee and leap)
My heart, it's a-thumpin'
My blood is pump pump pumpin'
since you dropped in on me
right outa tha bluuuuuuuuuuue!
The tick,
in my heart,
Surgar it's you!

(dancers do high can-can, high heels fly off into the audience, who have all signed wavers prior to the show; fake blood spurts from the ceiling, and the dancers get engorged (their costumes are equiped with compressed air that fills the tick abdomen part out.))
EVERYBODY!
I have a tick, in my heart
ov-ver youuuuuuuu
you dropped in on me
right outa tha bluuuuuuuue!
I have a tick in my heart
baby, it's YOU!

(rinse, lather, repeat)

And our First Post...

2007-07-25T06:41:00.001-07:00

Here is one of the original Dead Chicken Society postings, submitted by Toben, in December 2001. Revel in the memories of grave-yards and playgrounds past!

"Pick up your toys," the old woman said to the old man.The old woman really did have blue hair."Pick up your toys, old man," the old woman said."You really have blue hair" said the old man.
The tin cowboy smiled chipped paint crooked gun missing an arm smile."Pick up your toys!" Her voice was iron Uncle Sam clack flipping a woodennickel into its broad mouth. Clack.
He took more toys out of the box with veined hands. The hands faded intodust on a flier for the carnival eighty years ago. The mottled hands becamereal giraffes, his voice became the moustache of a strong-man.
"Pick up your toys, don't you fade into that dust!" Said the old woman in avoice that became crisp new fliers along railroad tracks. The old womanwas gone like a train, the emptiness in the attic followed her like the silencefollows a train. The people shuffled about the platform wondering if therereally ever was a train or if it was still coming. They quietly looked at theirwatches and they looked down the quiet track.
Dust spread its toys over the old man's body, and the old woman didn'tpick them up.

Happy Birthday Toben!

2007-07-25T06:38:00.000-07:00

Yo yo yo, what up Pirate Master? Brenda asked me to put together this here blog and resurrect the Dead Chicken Society. Being the web mistress that I am, I said, yep, I can do that...and voila! Ok, it took me a little longer than expected and some parts are still under construction and all, but you get the jist. So happy birthday - I hope it's a good one!