Posted on 11/21/2008 11:05:16 PM PST by HarryCaul
The Palin/turkey incident immediately reminded me of the Obama/chicken incident in Dreams From My Father:
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“Don’t you think he’s a little young?”
Lolo shrugged and looked down at me. “The boy should know where his dinner is coming from. What do you think, Barry?” I looked at my mother, then turned back to face the man holding the chicken. Lolo nodded again, and I watched the man set the bird down, pinning it gently under one knee and pulling its neck out across a narrow gutter. For a moment the bird struggled, beating its wings hard against the ground, a few feathers dancing up with the wind. Then it grew completely still. The man pulled the blade across the bird’s neck in a single smooth motion. Blood shot out in a long, crimson ribbon. The man stood up, holding the bird far away from his body, and suddenly tossed it high into the air. It landed with a thud, then struggled to its feet, its head lolling grotesquely against its side, its legs pumping wildly in a wide, wobbly circle. I watched as the circle grew smaller, the blood trickling down to a gurgle, until finally the bird collapsed, lifeless on the grass.
Lolo rubbed his hand across my head and told me and my mother to go wash up before dinner. The three of us ate quietly under a dim yellow bulb-chicken stew and rice, and then a dessert of red, hairy-skinned fruit so sweet at the center that only a stomachache could make me stop. Later, lying alone beneath a mosquito net canopy, I listened to the crickets chirp under the moonlight and remembered the last twitch of life that I’d witnessed a few hours before. I could barely believe my good fortune.
i read this and recall that chicken breast i simmered in stock and balsamic vinegar, which ended up served over penne. yummy.
Though I have killed my share of chickens (grew up on a farm), Obama’s words made me think of those poor Americans that had their heads savagely removed from their bodies, all in the name of Allah.
I’m sure PETA would describe this a little different ;-)))
I don't get it. What does this mean? What good fortune? First he witnesses the horrifying sight of a chicken running around without its head, then he savors his good fortune? I remember as a small child watching my grandmother slaughter chickens for dinner, but the sight of headless chickens running around the yard was terrifying and painful. Obama doesn't express compassion for the bird or horror at the sight of its killing. I have to say, if this is an example of the kind of sensibility portrayed in Dreams from my Father, I don't see why it's so acclaimed. Some great liberal he is, who doesn't even feel for a helpless beast.
As a young boy, I watched my dad slaughter several chickens. I was well into my teens before I would eat chicken after that.
I puzzled over that when I read it. I’m still not sure what he meant. Maybe that he was a child experiencing adventures. That’s the best I could come up with.
You guys. Remember that Obama probably didn’t write this. Of course Bill Ayers loved the beauty of someone dying slowly, their blood seeping out. Why else would he have always made sure to pack each of his bombs lovingly with little screws, nails, and other sharp metal objects?
Maybe Obama wrote the juicy red hairy fruit part.
To me it represents the things that must be done to enable us to have the life we know, and of things we think must be hidden from the sensitive child or woman. Then there comes a time when the male child is old enough to be revealed the cold hard truth of where fried chicken really comes from and the sacrifice that was made by the chicken to feed our and our families needs.
War is also hell but necessary things must be done to protect the purity our daughters sometimes hold against us for the acts we must commit in the name of liberty.
What you say makes sense. I guess I would have to read Obama’s little vignette in context to see if that is what he meant.
The writing is putrid, but the story itself is nothing much.
Anyone who eats meat is on the same moral level as a butcher.
I killed my share of chickens and pigs when I was younger.
It still amazes me that some people think meat just magically appears in plastic wrapped packages on supermarket shelves.
I had prime rib tonight. Prime rib comes from trees, so it's ok in my book.
I don't get it. What does this mean? What good fortune?
If you go to the link they have some additional text from the book where he seems to express a sense of excitement rather than fear at all the new things he was experiencing in Indonesia. He says: "That’s how things were, one long adventure, the bounty of a young boy’s life."
Now, that is an alarming stream of conscious.
Whoever wrote these strange books was one mixed up person. It is a combo of faux history, strange agendas and sophomoric philosphy that seems to indicate that whoever BHO is, we will be surprized when we actually remove the mask.
I had the same thought. He's just channeling his wife's homicidal fantasies, though: she was the driving force behind the violence. He's an arrogant wimp.
"First they killed the pigs, then they ate dinner in the same room with them, then they even shoved a fork into pig Tate's stomach. Wild!"
Ever notice that Dohrn is never interviewed solo by the media? She's still a ticking bomb whose fuse could easily be ignited, but they know that would hurt the "movement" -- that slow march through the institutions they've accomplished while America slept.
The “red hairy” part was probably the chicken. For Lolo to tell them to wash up for dinner just after cutting off the head means no time to boil the water to pluck the feathers. No time to gut the chicken, cut off the feet and cook the thing. Neither bama or the author has ever really experienced this scenario.
What’s wrong with the moral level of a butcher?
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