Why the Royal Tyrrell Museum Kicked Me Out

If it weren’t for the iridium

in the strata, dinosaurs would still 

be at the peak of

the pecking order. Waking us on

the farm instead of

the rooster—Foghorn Leghorn

finally shutting the fuck

up—a raptor supplanting

Cornelius on a box of

Kellogg’s flakes. It would no longer

bore us to tears.

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

fowl 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 wretched on

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 chortle best. Those regal,

magnificent bones.

Andreas Gripp

March 16, 2026

RF Photo