Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Cluck-n-Stuff: a "what the hell?" digression

The plenary session has convened, testimony has been introduced, objections have been made, sustained, and overruled. And after all the finger-pointing and name-calling (things can get pretty heated around here), nothing has been decided. We still don't know what the hell this is. Can it properly be called suicide food? What do we do with this?

In the end, the executive committee adjudicated the matter and found Cluck-n-Stuff to be wholly contemptible, yet not satisfying the criteria of suicide food. Still, its abhorrence merits attention as another of our digressions—our sporadic series of semi-official posts—if nothing else.

What are Cluck-n-Stuff™ Beer Butt Chicken Heads? Something worse than you could ever invent on your own (without first suffering considerable head trauma). To wit: false chicken heads you insert into the gaping neck holes of the dead chickens you are cooking, after jamming open cans of beer where their anuses used to be. Do you suspect this to be another of those crazy conspiratorial vegan delusions? If only!

No, these Beer Butt Chicken Heads are all too real, not to mention vile and hauntingly pathetic.

And such a convoluted raison d'être! What need do they satisfy? What wish do they fulfill? Is it simply the suicidefoodist's dearest hope, that the animals we subject to all our diabolical contrivances are, still, somehow, in spite of it all, pleased? That their souls, at least, are unscathed, and will speak well of us in their afterworld? That we can restore them to symbolic wholeness as a means of propitiation?

Or is there something more sinister behind the C-n-S BBCHs? ("B-Bitches," for short?) Do they express nothing more poignant than the drive to mock the victims of our trespasses?

Sadly, turning to the product's creator offers little insight. (Be warned: he speaks about himself in the third person.)

"While cooking his Beer Butt Chicken and having an ice cold frosty beer he kept checking the chicken for doneness. After lifting the grill lid for the third time he decides that there is something horribly wrong with the chicken. No, it wasn’t the way the chicken was cooking; it was the way the chicken was looking. There it was just sitting there without a head; it was at that point that this man had a light bulb moment. He said, 'This chicken needs a head!' and so he went off to begin creating."

His motivations are unclear: salve for a battered conscience, offering to emissaries of another world, or cruel joke?

We've placed our bet.


Francois Tremblay said...

That logo gives me the creeps. The product is inane and somewhat disturbed. Another great find.

Anonymous said...

And it comes - or do my eyes deceive me? in three styles......now that's real creativity

bazu said...

I just discovered your blog (through a tip from a fellow blogger), and just want to thank you for what you're doing. Ever since reading Carol Adams's books, it has profoundly disturbed me to see Suicide Food everywhere! And I don't even live in the deep south of BBQ country, so you can bet it can be even worse...
I'll be back to look around some more.

Ben said...

Welcome, bazu! (And everyone else.)

Francois Tremblay said...

Those three heads are nightmarish. They come from Dante's Inferno itself.

Anonymous said...

This is a six-noose item. I just barfed in my office trash can.

Ben said...

Mycroft, we cannot be held liable for any vomit-related damages incurred by your office furniture.

gitterrost4 said...

Since everyone here seems to be vegan and agree with you, I will give an opinion from the outside world.

Seriously, what is the big deal? It is a great marketing idea that seems to work with most people (otherwise the guy would not continue doing it, because it seems very costly and time consuming).

I, as an anti-alcoholic, am not offended by the little suits or dresses you can buy to make a beer or champagne bottle look "nice". I, as a non-smoker, am not offended by cigarette commercials, where the cigarettes get funny faces and walk around.

So what is the big deal?

(Now go ahead and rip me apart)

Ben said...

If you can't see the difference between a beer bottle and a living, breathing animal then we don't know what to tell you.

And if you're waiting to be "ripped apart," don't hold your breath. The post you commented on is more than four years old. Everyone forgot all about it long ago.