DMB Digest: Fried chicken, a pox on thee!
Yet another "Get off my lawn!" rant.
Chaos is fried chicken.
Stick with me on this one. Dark meat. White meat. Original or extra crispy. Popeyes or KFC. And what of this addictive chemical that makes us crave it fortnightly? And forget fortnightly. My oldest son struggles not to bring home an eight piece from the Albertson’s deli every time his shift ends at 9:00pm. As his father, I should have been the one to rescue him from the greasy undertow. Alas, the pull was too much.
For all of you who doubt the existence of a destructive, invisible force tugging with brazen tendrils at the strings of the universe, doubt no longer. Fried chicken is chaos.
I find baked chicken bland at best. But the power of fried chicken to lure an otherwise puritan individual off of the straight and narrow is uncanny. And with each surrendering to the siren song, the draw increases. In addition, the likelihood of surrender compounds with the fall of darkness. The lurid, late-night hours cry out with fried chicken on their breath. And the prices of the late-night, drive-thru menus escalate in an effort to keep up with the temptation.
Give in often enough, and eventually you find yourself eating it cold—straight from the fridge at 7:30am. “Oh,” you say, “it’s just a spot of chicken. A little oil. A proprietary mix of spices.”
Nay, I say. It’s a beast prowling at the gates of our souls, lurking in the shadows, waiting for us to lose our vigilance. Waiting for us to succumb to the siren song. Gradually and seductively realigning our trajectory with that of chaos. Converting us into creatures of its ilk.
Scorn and laugh at your own risk. Or heed my words as the prophetic warning they are! The Colonel is not your friend, and you should not grant him caretaker status over your soul. If you’ve not eaten fried chicken for a greater span than a fortnight, consider yourself blessed. If you’ve recently fallen victim, resist. Resist, my friends! Make no mistake, invisible, chaotic forces stalk this earth, and they relish the opportunity to manifest as fried chicken.
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