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FIND it mildly astonishing that fast-food franchises have not capitalised on the fact that 2017 is the Year of the Chicken. You’d think purveyors of deep-fried poultry would be all over this marketing gift, like batter on a drumstick.
The last time I paid any attention to the Chinese zodiac was in 2009, the year of President Barack Obama’s inauguration, which also happened to be the Year of the Ox. Those born under this sign are supposed to be dependable, logical, kind, caring, positive, calm, modest and patient, characteristics expected to infuse the year over which the beast holds sway. The Mandarin character for ox is pronounced niu, and 2009 promised to be a year of bright niu prospects.
The chicken (or the rooster, if you prefer, which is really just a chicken with a hat on) symbolises pompousness. I’m not generally given to pessimism, but this chicken year seems a little bland and scrawny when compared to the hearty ox.
If you put a chicken in the ring with an ox, there’s not much chance the bird would come out tops, unless there was fowl play involved. Which might be why Aesop did not write a fable called The Chicken and the Ox, and why Greek poet Aeschylus, when suffering from writer’s block, said: “A great ox stands on my tongue.” He could probably have swallowed a peri-peri flattie, but oxen do not go down that easily.
Which brings us to that disturbing phenomenon called Chicken Soup for the Soul, a book of platitudes (some call them “inspirational and motivational stories”) that sold like hot nuggets.
From the mother hen hatched a whole series of books (no doubt you have seen at least one of them in someone’s toilet). There is chicken soup for the teenage soul, the Indian soul, the Jewish soul, the nurse’s, veteran’s, prisoner’s, golfer’s, dog lover’s, military wife’s and fisherman’s souls. There is as yet no chicken soup for the vegan’s soul, but it will come.
That chicken has a lot to answer for. If you ask me, oxtail soup has far more substance than chicken soup. Someone should write a competing series of books, starting with Oxtail Soup for the Mind, containing robust advice of the more earthy variety. It would outweigh the flimsy chicken on all fronts.
Here are some inanities quoted directly from the fluffy chicken books (honestly, how did they become so popular?) followed by what the honest ox might say instead:
CHICKEN: “There is no right reaction. There is only your reaction.”
OX: “If anyone suggests you might be wrong, lean on them until they admit you are right.”
CHICKEN: “Growth is a process of trial and error.”
OX: “Growth is a thing you should have examined by a doctor.”
CHICKEN: “I am in charge of my own spaceship.”
OX: “If you think you drive a spaceship, see a doctor.”
CHICKEN: “Slow down and take the time to really see. You may be missing something wonderful.”
OX: “Try not to move faster than absolutely necessary.”
CHICKEN: “If you are alive, there are lessons to be learnt.”
OX: “If you are alive, there is grass to be eaten.”
CHICKEN: “Follow your heart, no matter what.”
OX: “Go where the grass grows greenest.”
CHICKEN: “We need four hugs a day for survival. We need eight hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth.”
OX: “We need grass.”
CHICKEN: “Spread love everywhere you go.”
OX: “Spread manure everywhere you go. It helps the grass grow.”
CHICKEN: “It is not about what comes back; it is about what goes out!”
OX: “See above.”