Humor by Chason Gordon. See below.
Let’s say you’re standing in front of a piece of meat. Let’s just say it, we don’t have rush into any kind of action. It could be chicken, or the heart of America, but let’s say it’s chicken just for simplicity. How are you going to cook that thing there, that thing, sitting there, on that wooden slab? There you are, and there it is. No, I don’t know how either of you got here, but who are you to brush off a fresh piece of meat? We know the application of heat is essential, so that’s a good place to start.
You’ve decided to use your lighter, and that might work, but how long can you hold that thing before it burns your finger? See, that’s pain you’re feeling. How much can you take? Because I’ll tell you, it won’t cook a chicken. Indeed you have managed to cook a very small part of the chicken, no doubt about it; that corner part is as done as thanksgiving dinner, but there’s a whole mess of chicken left uncooked, and how can you just discard uncooked chicken, in this world of myth and magic?
Now I see you’ve walked the chicken over to the radiator. Going to sweat it out. Nothing wrong with that. A good sweat never did a man any harm, never did a chicken any harm as well, but we’re not talking about a real chicken, we’re talking about a piece of meat, raw chicken, and that’s not the same thing. Maybe it’s a synecdoche, but I don’t know from literary terms. So sure, you can leave it on the radiator, and read your paper there, waiting, like any dignified chef would do, but how much heat are you getting off that radiator? Granted, you could turn the heat up, but then the house will get really hot, without the promise of a cooked chicken. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?
Ok, I know it’s frustrating, but throwing the chicken into the fireplace isn’t going to solve anything. For one thing, there’s no fire, so now you have ashy chicken, which, despite what you’re thinking, is not quite like breading. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to walk over to your neighbor’s house and ask her what to do with the chicken. One way to learn things is by asking questions. Never failed a man. Ok here we go. Out the door…across the yard…up the steps…and a nice little knock. I couldn’t have choreographed it better myself. Now say something, you can’t just hold raw chicken up to a woman and expect results. Good, she nodded and went inside, she must know what you mean. You can put your arm down. Ok here she comes. I think we’re about to make progress here. Hmmm, I see she has her own raw ashy chicken, and you’ve exchanged. I did not see that coming.
I have an idea, why not head to the kitchen? I think location matters in these situations. Good. But you’ve arrived in the kitchen empty handed. Show me where you left the chicken. On the coat rack? Ok, I’m going to ask you now to take the chicken off the coat rack. I’m not saying there aren’t societies where one might, upon entering a house, leave his raw chicken on the coat rack, but we’re not living in that kind of utopia. We’ve got kitchens for that sort of thing.
Alright, I feel we’re nearing a meal here. I’ll tell you exactly what to do, and if you listen carefully, we’ll have delicious cooked chicken in no time, and you won’t have to rub your belly anymore to indicate hunger. You see that black box? What one might call an oven? I want you to open the door, put the chicken on the rack, close the door, and then turn that little knob to 350. Once again, open door, chicken on rack, close door, knob 350. After that I’ll tell you what to do. Now get going.
Yes…that’s the right idea…we’re building…keep at it…keep going…wait…umm…oh that’s interesting. Ok. Yes that’s very clever. I asked you to put the chicken in the oven, and instead you’ve traced the chicken on a piece of paper. Then you burned the paper. It has a logic to it, like some sort of voodoo cooking. I admire the initiative. But has the chicken been cooked? No it hasn’t. Stop crying, I’m not angry with you.
We’ve tried the neighbor, we’ve tried simple instructions. Let’s try one last thing. Head to the black box, the oven thing, to your right. Right. See that knob…that knob…circular…like the sun…the knob…right there…turn it just a little. Just a little. Yes. Good. I see you wrinkling your nose. It does smell funny. Now lay down and take a nap. That’s right, put your head on the chicken. Sweet kid.
My cousin’s first grade class was asked to write about how they would cook they meal for Thanksgiving dinner.
One student said they would cook the turkey for 40 hours and then 10 hours and add butter. Another said they would defrost the turkey for 10 minutes at 4 degrees. Another student planned to add syrup and butter and black salt after cooking the turkey for 9 “minuets”
Another said “my thanksgiving was bad my mom and dad yelled at me and my cousins came over and at all the food”