To show the possum that it could be done.

We don’t really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road or not. The chicken is either with us or it is against us. There is no middle ground here.

Now at the left of the screen, you clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.

We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed access to the other side of the road.

The chicken did not cross the road. This is a complete fab­ri­ca­tion. We don’t even have a chicken.

This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

The chicken’s habitat on the original side of the road had been polluted by unchecked in­dus­tri­al­ist greed. The chicken did not reach the unspoiled habitat on the other side of the road because it was crushed by the wheels of a gas-guzzling SUV.

To steal a job from a decent, hard-working American.

I don’t know why the chicken crossed the road, but I’ll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I’ll bet someone out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I’m talking about your money, money the government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.

No one called to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the farmer’s market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider in­for­ma­tion.

Because the chicken was gay! Isn’t it obvious? Can’t you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the other side. That’s what they call it – the other side. Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abom­i­na­tion that the liberal media white­wash­es with seemingly harmless phrases like the other side.

Did the chicken cross the road?

Did he cross it with a toad?

Yes, The chicken crossed the road,

But why it crossed, I’ve not been told!

To die. In the rain. Alone.

I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

In my day, we didn’t ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.

Isn’t that in­ter­est­ing? In a few moments we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it ex­pe­ri­enced a serious case of molting and went on to accomplish its life-long dream of crossing the road.

Imagine all the chickens crossing roads in peace.

It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

It was an historical in­evitabil­i­ty.

I may not agree with what the chicken did, but I will defend to the death its right to do it.

What chicken?

To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

You saw it cross the road with your own eyes! How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it?

The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

I have just released eChicken 2003, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook - and Internet Explorer is an in­ex­tri­ca­ble part of eChicken.

Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?

I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken? Could you define chicken, please?

I missed one?