All our problems are the fault of chickens. These days of the zombie apocalypse, a rural school in a town in Lleida informed its parents that the three chickens they had could no longer stay with them. They haven't changed schools. Nor have they escaped in Benidorm or at the theme park. Gallinaland And they haven't run away swing dancing to the beat. I'm sorry. This is a sad, sad, very sad story. Sniff, sniff. We continue.
Ring-ring. The school received a "call" from an office of the Department of Agriculture, Livestock and Fisheries of the Generalitat (Catalan government). Hello, a question... Was the self-consumption farm we had registered at the school since September 2018 still active? Can we laugh now? Three miserable educational chickens and here the dictatorship of the unreal legal national-bureaucratic state tells us that the children are profiting from a macro-restaurant (Don Pollo Kids?) for massive capitalist profits? We continue, the chicken is older. Please, give me some juice for the beast and extra potatoes and a bottle of salfumante.
We must explain. mode for dummies. That is, for beings who perhaps have degrees, careers, doctorates, and are completely illiterate in the subject of Catalonia and the real planet. The school (like others) had three hens so the children would not only learn about the existence of non-virtual animals, but also that things like trout come from the interior of these beasts. The children folded the eggs, made recipes with them... They learned habits, knowledge, responsibility: the pedagogy of reality. Everyone was happy, including the hens, who were very much loved, and we all know that love is important, when our Orwellian farm of abnormal-lethal morality reports that there's a poultry farm one kilometer away and that the farmer wanted to expand it, but can't because he's told there's... the one from the school! Coc-coc. Wait, there's more surreal cluck.
The Agriculture delegation isn't asking the school to get rid of the three hens. No! It simply says that the farmer won't be able to expand his business if they continue with theirs. Hamlet shoots himself, and then we sell the thighs to the dragnet. The school (thank you!), with common sense, increasingly less sense and less common sense, is forced to close down its farm of, let's remember, three damn school hens. Welcome to unreal Catalonia.
The chicken is this: they don't want children, they don't want farmers, they don't want chickens, they don't want villages, they don't want education, they don't want reality, they don't want anything. It's disgusting to live in this country. Obsession. Shame. We live in the legal dictatorship of existential illiteracy. We live legislated by illiterates. They don't want it. They don't want us to exist. And this is serious. Extremely serious. Anti-democratic, anti-human, anti-everything. They are the same ones who don't want to know that one nugget It's a chicken carcass, and if you tell them, they'll call a psychologist specializing in emotionally charged emotions 24 hours a day to prevent their son from suffering perpetual trauma by dreaming about real chickens. All emotion, zero reason. He'd rather kill people than chickens while eating chickens that he doesn't want to know are chickens, and you tell him they're not chickens and not to screw him. What's coming will be big. Very big. And even the chicken will get revenge and discover, for the first time, the blood of life and that it will also be able to feed on coaxial cables and live in human coops. Coc-coc.
