blatant chicken


Happy Independence Day!

Shawndra was off work today, so she and I went for a walk at the zoo this morning, as we often do. It’s just a mile or so from here, and it’s free admission. We send them money most every year, because we do go as often as we do. It’s a tiny zoo, housing only animals which live in rain forests; you can walk the entire thing in about twenty minutes without breathing too hard. The star of the place is Namaste, a Bengal tiger. Every year on his birthday he gets a giant block of ice with his age in beef bones embedded in it like candles. He’s a happy carnivore.

Speaking of -vores, last week we also attended a potluck dinner for an organization Shawndra is associated with. The vast majority of entrees at this gala were constructed entirely of vegetables. It was a potluck, remember, and it would seem that many of the members of this group are vegetarians or vegans. Possibly Martians. And one woman who apparently dines exclusively on air. And only raw air, please. Two kindly individuals, however, saved me by arriving with platters of lovely chicken. Blatant chicken. Political statement chicken.

My wife tells me that this gastronomic split, this culinary line in the sand, is perhaps the most divisive subject of discussion for the local chapter. Forget politics. Forget religion. Food.

Which brings us (the very long way round) to the point of today’s drivel: Because it’s Independence Day, I thought I might write a political post on this most auspicious of days, democratically speaking. But then I looked in my email at all the crap various politicians sent me today on the subject of liberty. And I read some news about the upcoming elections. And I thought about chicken. And broccoli.

So instead I wrote you a story about what I did today, and give you the freedom of not hearing my opinion. About politics, anyway.

Enjoy your holiday. Try to be especially free today.


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