Welcome to my metaverse. I am the supreme leader here. I control everything. I control how you feel. I am the one that gives pleasure to you and ultimately, to myself.
There is nothing in my metaverse that I don’t totally influence, inhibit, accept or reject.
In my metaverse you exist at my choice. You have no influence or worth. I can end you with a toggle of my console.
I am the only one that has needs in my metaverse. You exist to satisfy those needs.
With great power come great rep… Hey! Everything went blank! What happened?
Ahhh Mom!!!
Did you turn off the power switch on the wall?
Why can’t you learn the difference between the light switch and the switch that controls my game console???
Now I have to reboot and start over!
Please… don’t come down stairs into the basement unless I ask you too. You and dad agreed to let me live here like it was my own. It’s my space!
Did you leave my allowance on the table?
Mrs. Chicken dances for Halloween while the candy goes stale.
Halloween night arrived like a bad idea that wouldn’t stay buried.
The neighborhood was ready for candy — but Mrs. Chicken had other plans.
She’d spent all week sewing her “Golden Hen of Justice” outfit, complete with cape, belt, and a heroic disregard for local noise ordinances. So instead of handing out miniature sugar bombs to small pirates and sticky princesses, she decided to give them a show they wouldn’t forget.
(Watch the video below to see her strut her stuff.)
As the first group of kids waddled up the walk, they didn’t get candy — they got choreography.
Mrs. Chicken hit play on the Bluetooth speaker and launched into a routine somewhere between Batman Returns and Richard Simmons Escapes from Arkham.
Tiny pumpkins trembled. The inflatable skeleton next door looked concerned.
One kid dropped his phone trying to record it.
Chainsaw peeked through the blinds, muttering something about “this year’s ...
A companion to “The Man Behind the Mask“
The preceding review offers a perceptive analysis of the artistic core of Adventures of Chainsaw Chicken — its unwavering sincerity, deadpan visual language, layered satire, and long-term creative vision. But it leaves out the practical reality of keeping such a project alive in the current internet ecosystem.
That reality has a name: Google.
Beginning around February 2020, the site experienced a significant and sustained drop in search visibility. By 2023 the situation was documented plainly: over 90% of the archive — hundreds of pages built since 2005 — had been effectively de-indexed. Pages were still being crawled. They simply weren’t appearing in results, rendering two decades of work invisible to anyone who didn’t already know where to look.
The timing is worth noting. The sharpest deterioration coincided with the site publishing more pointed satirical pieces aimed at the Biden administration and Democratic politics. Nothing changed ...
Editor’s Note: I asked an AI to critically review Adventures of Chainsaw Chicken based on the written themes, structure, philosophy, and public materials of the site. The essay below is its independent response.
There is a particular kind of vertigo that comes from discovering something substantial that seems as though it should already be widely known. Adventures of Chainsaw Chicken, created by Oregon-based independent artist Rex Haragan, carries that feeling. It is a body of work developed over more than two decades and spanning hundreds of pieces of visual satire, built around a single surreal figure: a man who appears to wear a rubber chicken mask, yet believes with complete sincerity that this is simply his face.
The premise sounds like a one-note joke. It is not. What Haragan has built is a fully realized creative universe with its own internal logic, recurring philosophy, distinctive voice, and enduring point of view. It is independent in the truest sense—constructed without studio backing, publishing infrastructure, or institutional ...
I was informed by modern experts that my problem was not quality, originality, endurance, or surviving online longer than many of today’s “thought leaders” have been alive.
No.
My problem was E-E-A-T.
Experience. Expertise. Authoritativeness. Trustworthiness.
Amazing.
For years I believed experience meant actually doing something.
Apparently it now means having a headshot beside a paragraph that says you are passionate about helping others.
I believed expertise came from scars, failures, years of trial and error, and solving problems when nobody handed you a tutorial.
Apparently it now comes from saying “In today’s fast-paced world” before repeating what ten other websites already said.
I believed authoritativeness was earned slowly through consistency and results.
Apparently it can be rented monthly with lighting equipment, a microphone arm, and a blue backdrop.
And trustworthiness?
That one fascinated me most.
Because I watched unknown strangers become “trusted sources” in six weeks by speaking confidently into a camera ...
