Susan and I love roast goose; we try to have it for Thanksgiving dinner whenever we can. Goose, like duck, is dark meat, and the roasted skin is crispy and unctuous. We have also had foie gras – once. We tried to fry it only to discover that the entire block of foie melted like butter. In fact, eating foie gras is a bit like eating a stick of butter. I don’t recommend it if you, like me, have a mixed hyperlipidemia or hypercholesterolemia. Food Channel stars often sing its praises, but foie gras really didn’t do anything for us.
Oysters are another thing. I have, since my second (junior) year at university, enjoyed oysters on the half shell with a horseradish remoulade on saltine crackers – washed down with beer, of course. Susan likes them fried in a po’boy. To each his own. The last few years, I have enjoyed them as a Rockerfeller and as homemade Cajun grilled oysters (a Cajun spice twist on Oysters Rockerfeller.)
So, you might imagine that since these delicacies are in my culinary repertoire, I found Putie’s reference to Foie and Oysters rather silly – especially for a fat cat kleptocrat would probably eats Osetra caviar on crackers as a snack. He’s such a limp dick.
Riffing on Putinesque idiocies, I wondered whether NATO, like Russia, might engage in a special military operation in Ukraine. They could just amass some military assets in Poland, Lativia and Estonia, and engage in military exercises up to the point of entering Ukraine at President Zelensky’s behest. Ukraine might also host a volunteer air corps akin to Claire Lee Chenault’s volunteer (Flying Tigers) corps in the Pacific theater during the Japanese invasion of China. I think a fleet of A-10 Warthogs marked in Ukrainian colors in the hands of retired American aviators could provide an attitude adjustment to the Russian batteries currently raining hell on Kharkiv, Mariupol, and other Ukrainian cities under their siege. As volunteers, they would be independent actors just like Putie’s Syrian and Chechenian mercenaries. It seems only fair.
I’m going to have Quiche Lorraine for supper – a meal especially suited to effete intellectual snobs who celebrate our gender freedom.