Foies Gras Marie

A joyeux Tokyo Rose for the the worldwide war between Human and Animal, Foies Gras Marie purrs like a seductress. Telling you lies so blatant you have no choice but to surrender and believe, she flaunts her liver and the livers of her fellow ducks.

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.

The birds are taunting us. With their big bows, their bonnets tied so gaily beneath their chins, the loose ends snapping in the breeze, those damn, depraved ducks are taunting us.

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.)