I've got one that can SEE

Food Project Proposes Matrix-Style Vertical Chicken Farms

Philosopher Paul Thompson from Purdue University has suggested "The Blind Chicken Solution." He argues that chickens blinded by "accident" have been developed into a strain of laboratory chickens that don't mind being crowded together as much as normal chickens do. As a result, he argues, we should consider using blind chickens in food production as a solution to the problem of overcrowding in the poultry industry. He argues that it would be more humane to have blind chickens than ones that can see.

But Ford goes a step further and proposes a "Headless Chicken Solution." This would involve removing the cerebral cortex of the chicken to inhibit its sensory perceptions so that it could be produced in more densely packed conditions without the associated distress. The brain stem for the chicken would be kept intact so that the homeostatic functions continue to operate, allowing it to grow.

Ford proposes this solution for two reasons: To meet the rising demand for meat, particularly poultry, and to improve the welfare of the chickens by desensitizing them to the unpleasant reality of their existence.

A challenge for Ford's system would be the lack of muscular stimulation. However, Ford proposes using electric shocks similar to that used in other lab meat experiments.

The likeness to The Matrix has not gone unnoticed by Ford. "The similarities are patent, although in The Matrix the dominant species were kind enough to provide the subspecies with a alternate reality, which was far better than the their 'real' post-apocalyptic world," he told us. "This was a lovely gesture by 'The Machines,' but the chickens in this system will not be privy to such a luxurious appendage to an already elaborate system, especially in this age of austerity."

Previously, previously, previously.

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2 Responses:

  1. Pavel Lishin says:

    I don't want my idiot friends to finally be right about the beakless KFC chickenoid, though.

  2. Jesper says:

    A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox's table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

    "Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?" It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.

    Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

    "Something off the shoulder perhaps?" suggested the animal, "Braised in a white wine sauce?"

    "Er, your shoulder?" said Arthur in a horrified whisper.

    "But naturally my shoulder, sir," mooed the animal contentedly, "nobody else's is mine to offer."

    Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively.

    "Or the rump is very good," murmured the animal. "I've been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there's a lot of good meat there." It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

    "Or a casserole of me perhaps?" it added.

    "You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?" whispered Trillian to Ford.

    "Me?" said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, "I don't mean anything."

    "That's absolutely horrible," exclaimed Arthur, "the most revolting thing I've ever heard."

    "What's the problem Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump.

    "I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing here inviting me to," said Arthur, "it's heartless."

    "Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod.

    "That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just ... er ..."

    The Universe raged about him in its death throes.

    "I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered.

    "May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months."

    "A green salad," said Arthur emphatically.

    "A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.

    "Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?"

    "Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am."

    It managed a very slight bow.

    "Glass of water please," said Arthur.

    "Look," said Zaphod, "we want to eat, we don't want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare steaks please, and hurry. We haven't eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years."

    The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle.

    "A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good," it said, "I'll just nip off and shoot myself."

    He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur.

    "Don't worry, sir," he said, "I'll be very humane."

    ("I'll just nip off and shoot myself" is the best line of the second HHGTTG book. The best line of the first is "Ford, you're turning into a penguin. Stop it.")