U.S. Rep. Jim Jordan, the Republican from Ohio’s Champaign County, has long been a political lightning rod. But the ex-wrestler who wouldn’t cooperate with the January 6th Select Committee on what he knew regarding then-President Donald Trump and the insurrection at the Capitol appears to be gearing up for investigative battle as he prepares to take the gavel of the House Judiciary Committee next year.
Alright alright. Thank you, hens, for giving me the opportunity to guard and protect you. As your new Head of Security, I promise to do exactly as I please to ensure your safety.
First order of business: Any past invasions of your hen house by other foxes, coyotes, wolves, dogs wearing fur hats with horns, etc., never happened. Don’t believe what the other chickens say. From now on you can rely on Fox News.
New rule: Open door policy: In order to more effectively guard the henhouse, we need to allow access to all predators. We need to normalize the presence of violent, conscience-free, carnivorous creatures amongst you. That way, as they slowly pick you off, one by one, you won’t even bother protesting, you’ll be so used to being eaten!
A few changes: The old rooster, who was, let’s face it, waaaay past his prime, has been put out to pasture. Literally. He’s buried in the northwest corner of the hay field. That’s right, old Mr. Cock-a-doodle-doo is now Mr. Cock-a-doodle-done. I say, I say, deal with it.
Now, regarding the eggs: Going forward, each of you will be expected to produce at least one of those precious (and tasty) orbs everyday, whether or not you feel like it. If you’re tired, suck it up. Or rather, push it out. If you already have too many chicks to take care of, that’s on you. If you lay a rotten one, don’t you dare try to dispose of it. You’ve hired me to protect the chicken and the egg. Whichever came first is irrelevant.
Let’s clear a few things up: Rumors of my involvement with the supposed past invasion and slaughter of several of our ‘flock’ are completely false and I will root out and bring to justice any chicken littles who have participated in spreading these vicious lies.
Sure, my refusal to cooperate with Farmer Raskin (and by cooperate, I mean letting him shoot me) after several of you mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind only a pile of feathers and a whole lot of poop a few winters ago has some of you doubtful of my trustworthiness. But I will swear on a stack of Garden and Gun magazines that I was not involved in that thing that didn’t even happen.
But if something like that alleged ‘invasion’ ever happened, let's talk about the real perps. Because I promise you, they will be punished.
I’m looking at you, ladies.
Don’t get all jumpy now, let’s talk truth: You, being the tender, juicy, delicious morsels of protein and fat that you are, have made yourselves vulnerable to us meat-eaters. You’re just too trusting, believing that a hungry, single-minded predator would ever read the No Trespassing sign or let a little chicken wire get between him and his next meal.
So as I’m thinking about it, let’s scratch the open door policy. Let’s get rid of any doors. Or walls. Or roofs. Or any sort of protections for a vulnerable community. Starting now, we are a free-range operation. Good luck with that, mothercluckers!
If you gals have a problem with any of this, come talk to me. My mouth is always open.
By Christine Stevens
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