Anderson Plays Chicken With KY

Latest news on Pamela Anderson (yes, there is actually "news" on Pamela Anderson) has her in Kentucky leading a protest against the state. Seems she's demanding they remove a bust of Harlan Sanders -- that's The Colonel to you and me -- from the State Capitol Building on the grounds that his company did a lot of vicious things to chickens -- beyond the usual decapitation, of course.


Apparently this included spitting tobacco juice in their eyes. Let's just... ponder that a moment. Or not.

Now I have no idea what that's all about or why they'd do a thing like that, though I wouldn't be surprised to find out it's true just because this is indeed a weird world we're living in, but I can't stop giggling long enough to draw up a protest sign and get on a plane to join the gang. It's just that the target is a bust. Did someone decide that Pamela Anderson was the obvious spokeswoman when "busts" were involved? (Product recognition, perhaps?) And if Kentucky demands that Ms. Anderson remove HER bust, can she wiggle out of it by pointing out that last time she did that it ended up on E-Bay and the whole thing was an emotionally draining nightmare?

Okay, no fair. It's not like she just jumped on the protest wagon for publicity. She cares about this, she cares about animal rights in general, and she's not afraid to go after a big company or even a state, which is admirable. Frankly, I have no great love for Kentucky Fried Chicken, or KFC as it is now known. When I was a kid and my mom was bringing home drive-thru food, I used to practically chant "not Kentucky Fried Chicken! Anything but Kentucky Fried Chicken" until she got home, usually with a bucket of that rock-hard, inedible crap. The rolls were good, but they were really only tiny versions of something you could get at the grocery store, so big deal. We wanted burgers and fries, not tobacco-flavored, chicken-shaped fossils. Remember when they came up with "Extra-Crispy?" I remember thinking that they probably came up with that name after weeks of brainstorming, having started with "Less-Penetrable."

All that aside, she's doing something important. If it's true that Sanders fostered those practices in his organization, from tobacco in the eye to actually ripping the heads off live chickens instead of the fast chop, then he was a creep and he shouldn't be worshipped. The bust should come down and it probably won't. This is Kentucky. This is the very, very South. No woman is going to tell them what to do, especially a porn star, which is her net worth there. The Colonel, on the other hand, is as synonymous with Kentucky as a Mint Julep. For better or for worse.

There's a distinct echo in here.

This has been a tidy field for a long time, huh? Debris-free. You could eat off the floor, it's so spotless. The demands of running a magazine made it impossible to find a spare moment to do the kinds of things I started this blog in order to do.

Not a problem anymore. Cosmik Debris Magazine sleeps with the fishes. After ten and a half years of wonderful times and great memories, we had to put it down. It never suspected a thing. Told it we were going camping, took it up in the mountains and when it leaned over the stream for a drink.... two quick, merciful shots to the index and it was done. It was... There wasn't... I really can't talk about it anymore.

The final issue and several years worth of back issues are still available at http://www.cosmik.com.

Now that it's gone, I have nothing to do. It's a little unnerving, after all those years of constant writing. Then I remembered... Thank God I have a blog. Of course, it took me several days to remember my username and password, but I'm here.

I'm gonna dust. Posting begins soon. Get ready to slap me around with witty comebacks, please. I'll order pizza.

DJ