It all started with a call for President Trump to release his tax returns and a 14-foot tall inflatable chicken. With scowling eyes and an overparted blonde coif meant to resemble the former guy, the towering blow-up fowl made its debut at the Tax March in San Francisco in the spring of 2017.
But with 45 out of office, out of headlines and off social media, the pranksters behind the Trump Chicken have decided he’s laid his last egg.
Organizer Danelle Morton told SF Weekly that the decision to metaphorically bury the bird wasn’t that difficult. The fact is, it’s not as funny as it used to be. What started as a joke, much like Trump’s candidacy when he first descended that golden escalator back in 2015, quickly became scary after the 2018 midterms, Morton said. The former president’s rhetoric has only intensified from there with his latest claim that the 2020 election was rigged. (It wasn’t).
“Now that Trump is like a lounge act in a country club in Florida popping into people’s weddings… you can’t really mock him,” she said.
Morton got the idea for the Trump Chicken a month before the Tax March when she saw pictures of large inflatable Trump roosters being used to kick off the Year of the Rooster during Chinese Lunar New Year. From there, the antics grew.
Over the years, new versions of the Trump Chicken popped up including, a 20-foot poultry perched atop a golden throne at Twin Peaks, a 6-foot COVID chicken and “Prisoner 00045”: the 33-footer that donned a prison uniform and sailed through the San Francisco Bay. In case you’re in the market for a 33-foot blow-up bird, Morton says they come pretty cheap – –she got hers for $1,100 with shipping and the blower included.
But on Saturday at a former ship-building facility where the original Trump Chicken was first inflated four years ago, Morton and a few close friends plan on saying their final goodbyes.
“There’s a tiny little stage out there, and we’re going to give eulogies for the chicken,” she says.
Memories will be shared, some tears may be shed, and the ceremony won’t be short of chicken puns, Morton assures.
“We came to bury the chicken and not to braise him,” she remarks.
Anyone interested in attending the not-so-fond farewell to the Trump Chicken can message Morton on Facebook.