He suggests, in effect, lobotomizing them so they're not aware of anything, and since they're not aware of anything, what do they need their feet for? Just remove their feet so we can pack them into a smaller space.
I wish I were kidding, but I'm not.
Of course this shall not come to pass, but in an evil, perverted, Nazi-like logical next-step, it makes horrific sense.
Like one commenter says, if he knew he was either going to go through Hell with all his functions intact or Hell with no awareness at all, he'd obviously choose the latter.
Obviously, this is all assuming that a chicken has any awareness at all. The problem with this assertion is, awareness compared to WHAT? Just because it doesn't recognise itself in a mirror, does that make a chicken a walking mindless lump of meat that won't mind having its head cut off or watching a companion's head getting cut off, that it doesn't feel fear or pleasure, or indeed, have its own entirely different perception of its journey through life than we could imagine in our wildest dreams?
100 years ago, I must remind you, we put people with bipolar disorder into institutions. We even lobotomised them.
My proposal is altogether different: give them regular doses of fine wines and champagnes, enough to send them into the stratosphere. I'm serious. Not only would it dull their senses as to their horrific conditions, but it would make their meat overall tastier.
Towards the end, when they are are about to be despatched, up the dose to, say, fine cognac, so they're absolutely blotto when the time comes (and very tasty indeed). That would benefit liquor companies and boost general productivity of cooks, freeing them up from waiting for their chicken to marinate as it would arrive already marinated in the package.
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