Tuesday morning yoga

Somewhere, out there now, is a security video of me doing yoga in a holding cell.

This idea alone is enough to take mind wrapped up in fear and doubt, and for just a moment realize that ridiculous sight is stuck in the information of the universe. There is one thing and one thing only that could make that video even more perfect: a video of me in a chicken suit doing yoga.

I want people out there who might might be reading this to picture this for a moment. Some guy, with bright red longer hair and a beard to match, doing yoga in a small cell in a chicken outfit. And when I say yoga, I don't mean "doing some stretching" I mean back bends, handstands, down ward dog, dolphin pose, all of it.

In fact, this is an opportunity for a writing exercise. Just sit down with a pencil and paper, then think about what events would lead to a man in chicken suit doing yoga in a jail cell. I know the events that lead me to having a security video of doing yoga in a holding cell, and it's god awful boring and ridiculous. Just pay your parking tickets people. And if you decide to jog at 2:30 in the morning, don't jog through closed parks in bad neighborhoods and choose your jogging clothes appropriately.

Here's my problem with that statement. When I say "choose jogging clothes appropriately" my mind automatically takes an all or nothing approach. The nothing approach is simple: t-shirt, shorts, maybe sweats. The type of boring ass stuff you think of when you think of jogger. The type of people me and George Carlin want to hit with our cars. I tend to jog, do yoga, and bike in jeans, and a flannel. It's all I own, really, and I'm not going to go out and spend a ton of money on exercise equipment to look like a fucking jogger. I won't be a part of you're system, and I refuse to give my hard earned money to Big Jogging. But this is where I'm wrong. If you're going to look different, then you really can't half ass it with jeans and a flannel. That's why I need a chicken suit.

That scene of confronting 3 cops at 2:30 would have been made better with a chicken suit. Explaining that I'm not on drugs would be priceless. Seeing a judge for a year old traffic violation dressed as clucky would be an exercise in trying to keep a straight face. In fact, when I become George Lucas rich and powerful, and am given the power to make a special edition of my life, that entire scene will be digitally enhanced with a chicken suit. This is America, after all, and if I don't have the freedom to run in what I want, well then we are no better than those commies terrorist bastards that hate us so.