To get to the other side.
For the greater good.
It is the nature of chickens to cross roads.
It was an historical inevitability.
This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK:
To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.
Because of an excess of phlegm in its pancreas.
The road, you see, represents the black man. The chicken “crossed” the black man in order to trample him and keep him down.
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.:
I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.
And God came down from the Heavens, and He said unto the chicken, “Thou shalt cross the road.” And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross the road before you believe it?
RICHARD M. NIXON:
The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the chicken did NOT cross the road.
The point is that the chicken crossed the road. Who cares why? The end of crossing the road justifies whatever motive there was.
Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why doesn’t anyone ever think to ask, “What the heck was this chicken doing walking around all over the place, anyway?”
The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.
I have just released the new Chicken Office 2000, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook.
The question is not, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Rather, it is, “Who was crossing the road at the same time, whom have we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?”
Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically disposed to cross roads.
Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road moved beneath the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.
Asking this question denies your own chicken nature.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON:
The chicken did not cross the road… it transcended it.
To die. In the rain.
It was an instinctive maneuver. The chicken obviously didn’t see the road until he had already started to cross.
The chicken did NOT cross the road. Not a single time. Never. (It was a boulevard.)
I missed one?