The Chicken is Superfluous

Yesterday morning I was late to work. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was hanging around waiting for Vh1 to play Kings of Leon's Sex on Fire. Even if you don't watch Vh1 (because you only listen to the "alternative" stations that play stuff like the wildly alternative Van Morrison and David Gray) and don't like Kings of Leon (because you could have written "Use Somebody" - I'll give you that), I defy you to admit that sex on fire is not a concept you can buy into. I mean, I am not a joiner, but in this case, yes please, sign me up.

Then I realized that I didn't have to be a slave to Vh1's schedule and that I could just watch the Sex on Fire video on youtube. I call up the video and settle in for the what was bound to be the most exciting 4 minutes of my next 8 hours. The video starts - its kind of dark and sepia, there are some blowing leaves on a lonely street corner. Then there is a . . . wait . . . is that a chicken?

I crap you negative. A chicken. Then there are some shots of the band. Then half way through the video the lead signer is eating a chicken wing. Then at the end of the video the lead singer spits out a chicken bone.

Open Letter to Producers of Sex on Fire: When you have a relatively attractive, shirtless, slightly oiled up lead singer belting out in a sultry voice that sex is on fire, you can stop there. The chicken is superfluous.

Stay tuned because on Monday I will discuss the appropriate use of chickens in entertainment. Seriously.