Penny the Hen has come to impart her up-to-the-minute wisdom. On the surface, this would appear to concern nothing more than the advantages of canned and boneless birds and the ease with which their consumption can be described with metaphors drawn from the world of leisure. "Swing to Swanson boned chicken" (fore!), "Flavor is the thrill with Swanson boned turkey" (whee!), and so on.
Penny the Hen can swing a golf club, surf on a… thing (a lunch tray?), and leap a tennis net, all while envisioning the benefits of your consuming her family members curled in their tin tombs.
It amounts to a "new easy way to enjoy" eating chickens and turkeys, as Penny the Hen breathlessly announces!
In our modern push-button society, poultry will no longer force you to extract bone from flesh. Swanson insures that the birds are delivered to you "ready to serve." And Penny the Hen is their ambassador, envoy to the housewife! On the surface, yes. On the surface, a rousing testament to convenience. But look deeper.
Penny the Hen's own life, brief though it be, now has meaning. She knows freedom at last! The freedom to wind up in a can, her bones thoughtfully, efficiently, caringly removed.
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