Thursday, June 17, 2010

Festival of Cruelty 13: Spotlight on Harold

We first encountered Harold in the inaugural post of our Festival of Cruelty feature. Unbeknownst to us, Harold has been busy since then, amassing a sizable body of work. We have therefore chosen to showcase Harold and his chicken-hating ways in this, our 13th installment of the Festival of Cruelty.

For those of you who are still blissfully ignorant of this hateful little series, an explanation: the Festivals of Cruelty afford us the opportunity to enjoy some plainspoken anti-animal sentiment. Instead of the usual suicidefoodist fare, with its obfuscation and misdirection—its perversion of obvious truths—we get to experience unadorned candor. It's like hearing the whispers out of range of cameras and microphones. (Revisit the previous edition, won't you?)

Which brings us back to Harold. Here is a monarch who just loves killing (or at least chasing and menacing) chickens throughout Chicago and points beyond. He can't get enough of it.

Sometimes Harold keeps his regal status under wraps. But whether he's in his crown and ermine-trimmed jacket or the humble garb of the short-order cook, whether he runs to the left or the right, whether his quarry scampers or, legless, flaps in fright, the constant is that insatiable hatchet. Those damn chickens will feel the sting of his singing steel!

(Thanks to Debora Drower for her photo of the frantic neon Harold.)

Addendum (11/08/11): Another slight Harold variation.


Martin said...

You've drifted away from your theme. No suicide on this signage. It's clearly murder.

Ben said...

Indeed, Martin. This post is the 13th in our special Festival of Cruelty series, wherein we examine the let's-get-'em approach to signage and advertising.

It's something we "like" to do every 50 posts.

Anonymous said...

The President is a great fan of Harold's --- quite a popular place on the south side of Chicago.

Sticky Fingers said...

Oh I live one block from Harold's Chicken (#44 mind you) and I've always been charmed by the signage of a homicidal royal chasing a helpless chicken with an ax. I walk by the door every day and smile.

In the 2.5 years I've lived near the #44, I've never been in there to eat personally, but there is always a crowd when I walk by. This place is a true Chicago institution.