The perfect explication of a freakish philosophy. The chickens have been informed that their carcasses will be used to create something called a Domino's BBQ Chicken & Bacon Pizza. And what is their reaction? Do they weep? Do they plead? Do they flee? Do they fight?
In the cratered, post-rational land of Suicidefoodistan, such questions are met with incomprehension.
Why would the chickens object? Who, after all, would invoke normal responses, crafted by evolution's tireless tinkering? This—this pizzafication—is being done not merely to them or with them, but, never forget, for them.
Therefore, in the commercial dedicated to them, they do the least reasonable thing imaginable: they dance. At a disco. Saturday Night Fever-style.
They are celebrating their nihilism the only way a bird in a tragic, hallucinatory world can.