She’s saying… “Hesh yer mouth!”
Remember yesterday… how I said I refuse to talk politics?
See, among other things I’m Jewish, but I’ve always respected the fact that Chick-fil-A is closed on Sundays. It’s all right by me. The owners follow their religious convictions.
Hell, in Israel, where I lived for over a year, everything shuts down at sunset on Friday and re-opens at sunset on Saturday so if you’re gonna catch a bus you damn well better do it before sunset on Friday. And I have some hilarious running for the last bus stories in my repertoire. Not to mention obscene. And dangerous.
So… I refuse to take issue with Chick-fil-A’s chicken. Of all fast food joints in existence, they make by far and away the best chicken. There is only one Chick-fil-A restaurant within 40 miles of our town and my kids were in heaven whenever we shopped nearby.
It would always be: ”Where do you all want to get lunch?” And the unanimous answer was always… ”Chick-A-Fil!” Because for some reason we thought the name of the place was Chick-A-Fil. For the longest time I thought we were all dyslexic until my sister called it Chick-A-Fil just yesterday – and she’d never heard of the restaurant until this recent tempest in a teapot.
Here’s what I have to say – Chick-fil-A makes damn good chicken. You wanna kiss in front of Chick-fil-A? Kiss away. Please. I haven’t eaten there for a while, but all this talk of kissing makes me want to go grab some of those great chicken nuggets with dipping sauce and cheer for free speech and free kissing.
Sometimes you just gotta put your lips together and kiss someone.
P.S. Go Oscar Pistorius! Team Pistorius here.