Rachachuros Seasoning chicken, this glorious monstrosity served up by the New York Times art department bursts upon the scene, an audacious example of myth-making!
As the Times says: "There are white-meat people and there are dark-meat people; there are those who swear by the drumstick, thigh or breast. And then there are skin people."
Here, then, is the patron saint of the Skin People, a carefree scaffolding of chicken skin, otherwise known as a dead, plucked, headless, and footless chicken. It used to be a bird, but it has become so much more. A symbol! A figurehead! The emblem of a new identity! What started as a mere living thing has parted the veil surrounding the eternal and become the apotheosis of a New Discipline.
This politico-religious icon, this beguiling provider of multifariously edible skin, this let-me-just-slip-out-of-something-more-comfortable charmer is part-vixen, part-apostle. Nothing could be more familiar to the lusty despoilers of animals!