HARK, YE CHRONICALLY BEWILDERED PEASANTS — By the sainted left buttock of St. Wilgefortis… THE TRUTH IS OUT! (Or at least, the version he scribbled in crayon while standing on one foot!) Citizens! Please remain calm. (Ignore that last part.) *holds up a bootleg prophecy written in crayon* THEY SAID IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN — AND YET HERE WE ARE, STILL WAITING FOR THE CHICKEN TO BOO… …AND FOR THE PROPHECY TO STOP SMELLING LIKE BACON.