KFC

So the other day I passed a crowd of protesters assembling in front of the local KFC. The protesters held signs advising that KFC slashes the throats of live chickens and also boils chickens alive. One protester was in the process of donning a chicken outfit, and another was dressed as a blood-spattered Colonel Sanders. I was sorely tempted to amble over and join the protest. Not only do I too hate KFC (though largely due to their history of giving me absolutely crap service), but of course I’m always up for some good rabble rousing, and also the female protesters were all really, really attractive. I silently weighed these factors against the fact that I had been on my way to the grocery store to buy chicken, and perhaps the vague feelings of hypocrisy that might ensue should I be required to undertake the otherwise hilarious task of hurling a bucket of chicken blood onto the uniform of an unsuspecting teenage KFC worker. In the end I passed on by, motivated not only by the whole hypocrisy thing, but also by the fact that, to be honest, I was getting kind of hungry.