Quality of mercy and gravy, strain'd


Unless someone has the courage to speak out, a grave injustice will take place this week. President Barack Obama, following in the footsteps of his predecessors in the Oval Office, will pardon two criminals who deserve no such favoritism.

That's right. Obama will appear on the White House lawn with two turkeys, whose inexcusable crime is being delicious.

He should not commit the foul act of commuting their sentences.

Why not? Is it not William Shakespeare who wrote, "The quality of mercy is not strain'd"?

Frankly, Shakespeare didn't know what he was talking about. He probably never had turkey. True, an English explorer named William Strickland introduced the turkey to England in the 16th century — but he also had a turkey placed on his family's coat of arms, so what does that tell you? Turkeys weren't common English fare until later in the 17th century. And it remained a delicacy until much, much later. Remember, Scrooge called out for a Christmas turkey, not a Christmas goose, for the Cratchit family (which, according to the text, already had a goose on the table).

So Shakespeare aside, the question is mercy and the politically correct conscience. Oh, and gravy.

Let's discuss mercy first. Is it mercy to deny American tables the roasted goodness of a crispy-skinned, juicy-breasted turkey? Is it mercy to force us to victimize other fowl, whose crimes of delectitude are not nearly so great? What paltry poultry reasoning is this? No one can deny that the domesticated chicken is a bland, tasteless substitute. Do not the greatest minds remark that everything tastes like chicken? If that be so, then can chicken be made to taste like anything greater than itself?

Of course not. Yet we will admit that turkey, prepared by unskillful and hurried hands, is not always the peak of perfection we admire in that famous Norman Rockwell painting.

Too often we have choked down dry turkey. Too often has this delicacy proved a disappointment, and we turn away with a deep, unrequited longing left in our hearts, to watch the football game.

But this is no reason to dismiss the turkey; it is reason to fire the cook.

Now, about the politically correct conscience. We are fools to believe that any president spares the life of a turkey out of kindness, for that president will be carving up that turkey's cousin on Thanksgiving Day (and yes, there's always a photo op). The act of pardoning two turkeys is done merely to placate those Americans who would rather think of their food as something produced in the freezer section — not starting out as something kind of cute.

Man up, we say! Face your food! Admit your dinner once had a face, hopes, dreams, and turkey-ambitions! And then dig in.

And finally, gravy.

That's enough of a defense right there — just saying the word. Gravy. Done.

So we call upon the president to do right, to seek justice, and to then roast it at no higher than 325 degrees.


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