Why the Royal Tyrrell Museum Kicked Me Out

If it weren’t for the iridium

in the strata,

the rulers of the roost

would still be dinosaurs—

the peak of the pecking order.

Waking us on the farm

instead of the drawl of

Foghorn Leghorn. 

I’ve heard deGrasse & Dawkins

say the chickens are dinosaurs.

That Colonel Sanders knew it

from the start. But none would

buy a share in KFD.

Everything tastes like

poultry in the end.

It’s just the batter

we all want.

We were never their

heir apparent; and

it’s apparent we’ll be

dethroned—usurpers

who have gobbled

their remains.

What did you think you

fed your Maserati?

Texas tea? Oro negro?

The fumes are but their

laughter laughing last.

Even in their bones

they cackle best.

Those magnificent,

regal bones.

Andreas Gripp

March 31, 2026

RF Photo