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Are you chicken?


ChefCarey

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You should publish.

That was very fun to read, and brought back memories of lying on the floor as a child with my dad, both of us cracking up as that dog got his ass kicked yet again.

And, animal society is always interesting to read.

Edited by christine007 (log)

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You should publish.

That was very fun to read, and brought back memories of lying on the floor as a child with my dad, both of us cracking up as that dog got his ass kicked yet again.

And, animal society is always interesting to read.

Thanks, Christine. I've already published a couple of cookboks, and am working on two other projects right as I type. Oh, and I will be having a short series here, shortly (when, Maggie?) on The Daily Gullet.

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ChefCarey, I'm so glad that you posted this. I've found a new food writer to read! I look forward to finding your other works and having a completely new soul  to read  and experience. Thank you, I enjoy your positive and humorous writing style. :wub:  :wub:  :wub:

Maggie tells me we'll be up and running in about a week, Rebecca.

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  • 2 weeks later...
An "avian Don Knotts"....

I don't think I'll ever get past that mental image!

I wonder how many folks here actually remember the "Man on the Street" segments on the old Steve Allen Show -with Don Knotts, Louis Nye and Tom Poston? I think that was where Knotts first developed that personality he displayed on The Andy Griffith Show.

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I remember that shaky little fellow, along with the suave Louie Nye, whose cigarette languidly threaded smoke up for one eyesting as he did his best Leisuresuit Larry, and Tom Poston's thin-line-between-innocent-and-truly-vacant.

I think Don already had his tweed suit even then, wispy threads gleaming a dandelion aureole in the harsh TV lights as he struggled to keep body and soul together for his four seconds of fame. Much fidgeting, a mastery of the deer vs. headlights look, quick widening of eyes already the size of golfballs, and a purse-string fishpooch of mouth as he bleated out a shocked, quick, "Nooh!'

We were all on the innocent side then.

And how did I miss this wonderful thread? (Great memories of my Mammaw's chickenyard---such reminiscences of unfortunate chickens).

And then there was the little banty rooster we raised in the house on hardwood floors.

I loved this---there's just something funny in almost everything chickens do. And are. And you certainly nailed their cockeyed scheme of things.

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I remember that shaky little fellow, along with the suave Louie Nye, whose cigarette languidly threaded smoke up for one eyesting as he did his best Leisuresuit Larry, and Tom Poston's thin-line-between-innocent-and-truly-vacant. 

I think Don already had his tweed suit even then, wispy threads gleaming a dandelion aureole in the harsh TV lights as he struggled to keep body and soul together for his four seconds of fame.  Much fidgeting, a mastery of the deer vs. headlights look, quick widening of eyes already the size of golfballs, and a purse-string fishpooch of mouth as he bleated out a shocked, quick, "Nooh!'

We were all on the innocent side then.

And how did I miss this wonderful thread?  (Great memories of my Mammaw's chickenyard---such reminiscences of unfortunate chickens).

And then there was the little banty rooster we raised in the house  on hardwood floors. 

I loved this---there's just something funny in almost everything chickens do.  And are.  And you certainly nailed their cockeyed scheme of things.

I love Leisuresuit Larry! Hated it when Al Loeb stopped doing them and Sierra sold.

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  • 2 months later...

I was just thinking about these guys today. The only one still kicking is Tom Poston. Louis Nye died in 2005 and, of course, Don Knotts last year. Odd that Nye was never able to hook up with a long-running series like the other two.

I remember that shaky little fellow, along with the suave Louie Nye, whose cigarette languidly threaded smoke up for one eyesting as he did his best Leisuresuit Larry, and Tom Poston's thin-line-between-innocent-and-truly-vacant. 

I think Don already had his tweed suit even then, wispy threads gleaming a dandelion aureole in the harsh TV lights as he struggled to keep body and soul together for his four seconds of fame.  Much fidgeting, a mastery of the deer vs. headlights look, quick widening of eyes already the size of golfballs, and a purse-string fishpooch of mouth as he bleated out a shocked, quick, "Nooh!'

We were all on the innocent side then.

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