Blog Update

The Chic-a-Lac Blog is finally undergoing renovation, rehabilitation, revision, renewal, reorganization, revitalization and resuscitation. All of this is happening in stages. Some of the old features are gone, such as the Virtual Patio Message Board which is no longer supported, some have been updated like the Youngsville weather thingy, many of the links, like the Camp Album, in the right sidebar and in the posts themselves need relinking in order to work and some new material and features will be added. So please bear with us if some of the things just don't seem to work right. And please feel free to pass along your thoughts, ideas and even a minor criticism or two. You can always reach the blog by clicking on this button Ca. Chic a Lac Mail Thanks for your understanding.

December 21, 2009


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Who of us who attended the July, 2008 Reunion can ever forget Uncle Mortie's exhibition of his priceless Chicken Memorabilia Collectibles, so artfully arranged on the Tchotchke Table, purchased over the past 45 years during his exhaustive hunt at every 99 Cent Only Store in SouthWestern Connecticut and which he so selflessly donated as door prizes (and for which he took a healthy charitable deduction). Each piece was rated at least an 8.5 (out of 100) on the highly respected Chicken Crap Spectator Scale. Only one clandestine photograph of this priceless collection--taken at great risk to the photographer--exists:
[click on photo to enlarge] Alas, all but one of these magnificent pieces have gradually disappeared. Some drowned -- or were drowned -- in the bathtub, their little duckling squeaker giving one last lifeless, pathetic, gurgling little quack. Some were simply tossed into the garbage by boorish, unappreciative, uncultured spouses, muttering "Where did you get such DRECK?!" And some, sadly enough, were confiscated by the EPA for containing so much lead paint that they could have been used as a hencil, uh, pencil. Recently, the last remaining bird, which was last seen hidden in the shadows at the back of the Reunion Tchotchke Table, hoping against hope that he would not suffer the indignity of being chosen as a door prize, was discovered squawking frightfully and running for his life from a hallaf-wielding maniacal shochet at a glatt kosher slaughterhouse near Liberty, New York. After a bath, a pedicure, a combing and a nine piece meal at the Colonel's, Mortie's, uh, rooster once again stands tall, thick, proud, firm, and smooth in the safety of his new home, an alabaster-colored specimen of Herculean proportions, with a proud, erect head, never again having to fear falling into the wrong - or right - hand.
[click on photo to enlarge Mortie's Rooster]