Mr. Tangerine enjoys the various high-definition television channels. In fact, he's one of those guys who will only watch HD. He cannot abide the regular crapola-definition programming.
There are a couple HD music channels, so he's been watching a lot of concert performances from the Isle of Wight music festival and whatnot. Right now, he's watching some sort of documentary/concert combo on Palladia (is this a new channel? I think so) featuring circa-1970 African-American music and talk (including Richard Pryor). Anyway, an older man clad in a Pepto Bismol pink shorts suit sang a couple rousing songs, including "Do the Funky Chicken." Google tells me he's soul singer Rufus Thomas.
Anyway: So, the concert-going crowd was dancing the Funky Chicken dance, and they were getting their groove on. The dance looked more like dancing than poultry. See for yourself: here's the video of Thomas's Wattstax performance.
The nadir of American culture just might be the white folks' chicken dance:
Frankly, I don't know why they call it the chicken "dance," because...that's not dancing. Nor does it resemble the motion of chickens. And it is certainly not what one would term "funky."
Do the Funky Chicken, and you display a love of life and music and rhythm. Do the chicken "dance," and you look like a halfwit. Nay, a quarterwit. And a dork. With no sense of rhythm. And no reason to go on living.
Remind me to tell my child that if he ever gets married after he's grown, he must not allow the chicken "dance" to bust out at his wedding reception.