Fish Tacos

Thank God that's what I had for lunch the other day because had I choked down the chicken, I may have quickly became sickened. Immediately after gobbling up my Chavella's tacos, I took a little walk and unwittingly stumbled upon these guys - or gals most likely. These are not the kittenishly cute hens housed in pretty little city coops like my friend Hillary has been pining for. No, they're not. I like those. I'm all for them. This was a pretty shitty poultry prison smack dab in the heart of Brooklyn. Big. Ugly. Caged. Stinky. Sad. Hidden behind a big warehouse door that just happened to be open as I walked by, I felt compelled to stop and take some snaps. The owners smiled at me delightfully like it was some sort of petting zoo. (There was a goat!) However, it was gross. Nasty in fact! And it really made get to thinking. I have a half eaten rotisserie chicken sitting in my fridge as I type this, and it sort of makes me feel bad. Shall I open the window and set what's left free? Will that make me feel any better? Actually, yeah, I think chucking that sucker out my fucking front window would actually make me feel really good; hitting some a-hole on it's way down...even better. Done! Wow. Vegetarianism. Who knew it could make you feel that good? Plus, I'm never really that enticed by the leftovers of a rotisserie chicken, even if there is more than half left. It's just not the same. Waste not, want not. Wait. I think waste and want actually applies here. My bad.

(This pic was taken with my camera phone. Not bad, right, but I really need to start using my real camera.)