I get a fair amount of nuisance email daily. Possibly you do, too. I consider nuisance email anything from retailers that I’ve purchased products from in the past that I have no reason to purchase anything from in the present. Most of it I trash unread, but every so often one has a subject that piques my curiosity so I open it. On Labor Day I received an email with the subject heading “LABOR DAY FLASH SALE: $10 Flip Flips – 6 hours only!” I wondered:
Me: What are flip flips?
Apparently flip flips are flip flops with a typo.
Last week I received an email asking if I knew that September is National Chicken Month? I did not know this fine factoid. Before I opened it, I reasoned:
Me: There’s Black History month, there’s Gay Pride month, there’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, why not give chickens their due? People are crazy about their dogs and cats.
Then, I opened it.
I realized that the feathered and cackling variety of fowl were not in the forefront of the National Chicken Council’s thoughts. They’re thinking more along the lines of these types of chicken trios.
The backstage story about how September became the month of the chicken is as follows:
“For over two decades, the National Chicken Council has banded together all of the major chicken producers in the U.S. to promote chicken sales in September, turning a once slow month, as the summer grilling season waned, into one of the year’s best performing sales periods.”
That was even more news to me. After all, it was not that this was an idea prompted by some crazy chicken cutlet lover with clout. Of course this naturally makes me wonder about what chicken sales must be like from October through May, or is that the period where chicken consumers are content to pan grill their chicken or just go with rotisserie-style?
Then, my thoughts drifted back to the usual – film, theater, sex and where did I put my keys?
If there can be a National Chicken Month, it has dawned on me that I would like to spearhead the Lame Adventures Day – a day where it’s considered a cause for celebration to:
Sleep through the alarm.
Leave your satchel on your bed you’re in such a rush to get out the door.
Miss the morning train.
Arrive twenty minutes late at The Grind.
Forget to refrigerate your lunch.
Spill something on yourself (preferably something dark on light color attire).
Spend half the day trying to repair an office machine showing advanced signs of death.
Miss an important phone call.
Trip over the desk drawer you left opened.
Smash your knee into something sticking out because it was not put away properly.
Strain your lower back removing a file folder.
Lose your pen.
Lose your notepad.
Lose your mind.
Get caught G-chatting on company time.
Get caught texting on company time.
Get caught having phone sex on company time.
Miss the evening train.
Last but not least:
Make enemies with the National Chicken Council by declaring Lame Adventures Day the day when all chickens are safe and none are eaten.
In conclusion, Lame Adventures Day is a day when any and all inept, asinine and humiliating situations that do not lead to loss of limb or life, but can and do result in a temporary loss of cool, sanity and/or dignity, would be considered a cause for celebration! Plus all chickens are cut a break from ending up served on a plate, in a sandwich or floating in a bowl.
Am I onto something or what? For your viewing pleasure embedded below is a classic educational cartoon from my pre-Sesame Street youth that offers insight into how I attained my deep respect for chickens.