Saturday, September 24, 2011
For reasons best known to their psychiatrists, the purveyors of foie gras—the gavageoisie—always, always, always make sure to draw your attention to the birds' throats.
They want us to remember their necks and to envision the feeding tube and the gunk it extrudes. They want us to picture it, to bear it in mind as we dine on the mush that used to be their livers.
And they laugh! They delight! They cackle! These waddling, paddling she-demons cackle!
(Thanks to Dr. Adrienne for the referral and the second photo.)