There are a lot of arguments, mostly foolish, for becoming a vegetarian. The only valid ones are being allergic to flavor (IT GIVES ME GAS OKAY?) or being Michael Phelps. Otherwise its just silly hipster moralizing, kind of like when you brag about drinking a brand of coffee that ‘makes a difference in the world.’ – psssssssst, it did make a difference, because we are no longer friends.

But I digress. There may be a new argument for vegetarians on the horizon, thanks to the dusty attics of history. It turns out that even animals can have dynamic and exciting personalities, easily more so than Ryan Seacrest, the world’s dullest ball of undeserved happiness. Indeed the world of chickens alone has two splendid characters that will make you think once about eating that next delicious leg of Kentucky fried chicken dipped in chicken gravy glazed with inhumane slaughter practices and Human Growth Hormone.

Mike the Headless Chicken – Before J.K. Rowling’s Nearly Headless Nick, the famous ghost who got one blowjob right before his death, there was Mike the Chicken. Like all chickens Mike’s number was eventually called and he was asked to provide his life for the Olsen family dinner in early September 1945. But unlike most chickens his execution was botched and he survived with one ear and a semi-attached brain stem.

He’s like the Terri Schiavo of chickens. And like the late Ms. Schiavo, Mike lived a life of luxury in his vegetative state after Farmer Olsen decided to take mercy on him.

Mr. Olsen decided to continue to care permanently for Mike, feeding him a mixture of milk and water via an eyedropper.

Everything about Mike’s life makes you wish that YouTube existed in the 1940’s, if not only so we can see whether Hitler was really sarcastic when he told the generals to invade Russia (‘Yea, just go to Moscow before winter comes, or whatever’).

Because, once he learned how to walk without any eyes or a head for balance Mike spent most of his days wandering around the yard ‘attempting to peck for food with his neck’ – which is the chicken equivalent of a blind parapelegic miming picking up his glasses in the middle of Times Square.

Worth at least three million YouTube views I’d say – if this can make that –

And the story doesn’t stop there – Mike went on to travel the country and make almost $4,500 a month ($48,000 in today’s bloody stool economy) and be featured in Life AND Time. To put that in perspective, a HEADLESS CHICKEN, earned more than the average United States CITIZEN (A HUMAN BEING – though, to be fair, humans include this guy).

But, like all celebrities, Mike got a little too big of an ego, developed a nasty coke habit, and choked under the pressure. By which I mean he choked on a blood clot alone in a hotel room while his owners were away. Moment of silence.

Don’t worry though, his hometown of Fruita, Colorado, milks his brief year of fame for all its worth – because, what else is there to do in Fruita than host “Headless Chicken” races, play “Pin the Head on the Chicken” and host an annual “Chicken Cluck-Off?”

Your hunches were correct, there is not much else to do.

The Prophet Hen of Leeds –

When it comes to who to trust for predicting the end of the world you might as well trust a chicken – they have the same accuracy as the other prophets who have come and gone – zero. But at least they give those Religious Studies majors something to do while they are sitting alone in the alleyway covered in sexual frustration and regret for every life decision they ever made.

For, in 1806, there was a particular hen in Leeds, England that,

Began laying eggs with the phrase “Christ is coming” on each one.

And, naturally, as per human instinct, the people of the region fully believed the cryptic messages and starting planning and packing and preparing for the end of the world. Though, when you are as dirt poor as they were the only thing to prepare is to get the lice out of your hair and have one last meal of it.

Somehow, it all turned out to be a hoax, from one of the most dedicated pranksters in history – someone who had enough time on their hands to intricately etch these messages on eggs with acid and then physically reinsert the eggs into the poor hen. The original Johnny Knoxville. But what else do British people have to do other than lose all their colonies amirite?

Heart Wrenching Conclusion –

So the next time you sit down to eat some chicken, remember that you might be eating the next talentless superstar, and you could be better spending your time killing all the ‘band’ members of Fun.

Or you might be eating the next prophet who makes false predictions, so its like eating the weekly eucharist.