These are only additions to the original "Why'd the chicken cross the road" post.

Noam Chomsky

The chicken didn't exactly cross the road. As of 1994,
something like 99.8% of all US chickens reaching maturity that
year had spent 82% of their lives in confinement. The living
conditions in most chicken coops break every international law
ever written, and some, particularly the ones for chickens
bound for slaughter, border on inhumane. My point is, they had
no chance to cross the road (unless you count the ride to the

supermarket). Even if one or two have crossed roads for
whatever reason, most never get a chance. Of course, this is
not what we are told. Instead, we see chickens happily dancing
around on Sesame Street and Foster Farms commercials where
chickens are not only crossing roads, but driving trucks
(incidentally, Foster Farms is owned by the same people who own
the Foster Freeze chain, a subsidiary of the dairy industry).
Anyway, ... (Chomsky continues for 32 pages. For the full text
of his answer, contact Odonian Press)

Katherine McKinnon

Because, in this patriarchial state, for the last four
centuries, men have applied their principles of justice in
determining how chickens should be cared for, their language
has demeaned the identity of the chicken, their technology and
trucks have decided how and where chickens will be distributed,
their science has become the basis for what chickens eat, their
sense of humor has provided the framework for this joke, their
art and film have given us our perception of chicken life,
their lust for flesh has made the chicken the most
consumed animal in the US, and their legal system has left the
chicken with no other recourse.

Stephen Jay Gould

It is possible that there is a sociobiological explanation for
it, but we have been deluged in recent years with
sociobiological stories despite the fact that we have little
direct evidence about the genetics of behavior, and we do not
know how to obtain it for the specific behaviors that figure
most prominently in sociobiological speculation.

Joseph Stalin

I don't care. Catch it. I need its eggs to make my omelet.

Malcolm X

It was coming home to roost.