Yeah, I know.
But what the heck, My caipirinha tells me: do it.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side.
It is the nature of chickens to cross roads.
This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
Because of an excess of phlegm in its pancreas.
Martin Luther King, Jr.:
I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.
And God came down from the Heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
Richard M. Nixon:
I just want to make one thing perfectly clear. The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the chicken did NOT cross the road.
The point is that the chicken crossed the road. Who cares why? The end of crossing the road justifies whatever motive there was.
The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.
We have just released the new Chicken Office 2013, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook.
The question is not, "Why did the chicken cross the road?" Rather, it is, "Who was crossing the road at the same time, whom we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?"
Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically disposed to cross roads.
Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road moved beneath the chicken depends on your frame of reference.
Asking this question denies your own chicken nature.
Ralph Waldo Emerson:
The chicken did not cross the road . . . it transcended it.
To die. In the rain.
The chicken does not exist.
I missed one?