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Okay,  so the last couple of attempts at reviving the website never quite worked out.  No hard feelings.  We had a great run.  But in the past few years, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that It Can Still Work, Damnit.

One aspect that never, ever slowed down was my passion for audio production.  Since we started The Rubber Chicken Podcast, it’s become my single biggest hobby.  No other creative pursuit is so consistently rewarding; no other process comes so close to outright meditation.  I live, simply put, for the waveform.

And so, even when this website’s activity slowed to a crawl, I’ve been keeping actively busy with other podcasts, radio hosting, audio dramas, music, a few million new show ideas, and yes, perpetual rescripting of that perpetually in-perpetuation season two podcast finale.

These projects needed a home.  The Rubber Chicken needed a way to be interesting and relevant to me again.  Enter Rubber Chicken Audio: a production banner covering all of the above and more.

The website you are currently reading is, in my mind, the definitive archive of an incredibly creative and energetic decade.  To carry that over to a new page would be a disservice to the material and its authors.  The best (and indeed, only) answer was a clean break.

The Rubber Chicken Podcast will continue with its characters and muddled continuity intact.  Many of your favourite contributors will make an appearance.  We’ll also keep you posted on some of the brilliant new projects the old crowd are working on – Ben’s video games, Andrey’s plays, Tim’s dancercise workout videos.  Hell, we may even dabble in silly animations and minor celebrity hassling, if it feels right.  It is, in every sense, a continuation of the original website’s spirit.  But it’s not The Rubber Chicken – not quite – and we can embrace the new without a sugary sweet tip of the hat to the old.

A toast, ladies and gentlemen.

  • To The Rubber Chicken, a.k.a. TheRubberChickeN64, a.k.a. n-chicken.net, a.k.a. ThatChickenSite.com: the best creative outlet an awkward teenager could have hoped for.
  • To Tim, Ben, Brett, Andrey, Fiona, Chris, Gord, James, Mike, Paul, Chad, Hyle, Tom, Alyssa, Andrew, Stafford, HMB, Andy, Scott, Steve, Adam, Karl, Oscar, Mittens, Andrew, Gordon, Jens, Terry, Chris, Alex, Matt, Rik, Amanda and anyone else who kept this ol’ hovercraft a-hoverin’ with their words and wit.
  • And to you, loyal Achickenados (we never did think up a better name) for your considering any of this worth your time.  It’s been an honour.

Oh!  One last thing!

In 2002 I started dating a lovely French girl named Anne-Gaelle.  Even back then, I naively thought she’d be The One, and purely by coincidence, I happened to be right.  We got married last September.  Rubber Chicken contributors Ben and Chris were groomsmen. Tim was the best man.  Mister Bung made the flight over too.  I’m surrounded by amazing friends, and I simply wouldn’t know them so well – or, in many cases, at all – if it weren’t for The Rubber Chicken.  That’s really quite something.

I actually, literally told myself back in 2002 that if this happened, I’d post the following animation.  I’m a sucker for closure, especially when it comes to decade-old ideas, so here we go.  My wife (and I’m going to say that again, because this is all still new to me: WIFE) is a little wary when it comes to internet privacy, so I’ve tastefully recast her with Amelie‘s Audrey Tautou.

Thank you.  All of you.  Sincerely, and many times over.  I’ll see you on the other side.

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Andrey and Mike expound absolutely all their energy and talent, to bring you the most tightly-compacted shot of fantasy and myth-related puns IMAGINABLE. So potent, you won’t have time to laugh at a single one of them.

Written and performed by
Andrey Summers
Michael Cope

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Tonight on The James & Andrey Improvise Things Show:
Michael Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Canned Goods, defends his controversial decision to market processed vegetables to the eternally damned by opening a portal into Hell.

Revised Edition
Now with a tantalising trailer of terrifying events to come!

Compiled by Andrey Summers
Additional material and editing by Alastair Craig

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A recap of the Arctic White Campaign, The Rubber Chicken’s month-long crusade to rig a breakfast cereal election.

As you are no doubt aware, the Australian division of Kellogg’s Cereal let us, Froot Loop eating public, choose the new colour to join the green, orange, red and yellow we all know and love. Always the equal opportunity campaigners, we began a movement to elect the least likely candidate: Arctic White.  For every day of the last month, The Rubber Chicken’s readers and writers have been casting multiple votes for this wonderfully mundane colour hundreds of times over.

Sadly, but not surprisingly, Kellogg’s couldn’t handle the results.  Today, the false glory is heaped upon Sky Blue.

With this outright robbery of our democratic rights, our dreams are shattered.  Shattered like glass. Glass under an elephant’s foot. The foot of the elephant of manipulative multinational cereal companies. An elephant which has eaten peanuts. The peanuts of rigged election results. Grown in a peanut farm of LIES!

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Alastair: Australian comedian Shaun Micallef is somewhat of a demigod to The Rubber Chicken’s Australian writers.  His previous sketch comedy series is eerily similar to the sort of show we would make, but for our lack of time, money and talent.  It was therefore only natural that we await Micallef Tonight, his long-overdue return to television, as parents would their firstborn.  And when that show (let’s end the baby metaphor here before things get ugly) was prematurely axed by the Nine Network after barely two months on air, we considered it a direct and personal insult.

The following retaliatory letters won’t bring the show back, but they just might waste precious seconds of a Channel Nine secretary’s time. And in the end, that’s what ThatChickenSite.com is all about.  More importantly, we hope they give you a good chuckle, and go that little way in restoring the laughs robbed from the world in these dark, dark days.

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