MIDTERM ESSAY: Poli Sci 191 C: June 4, 2026
‘Introduction to The Psychology of Politically Correct Political Correctness’; by Christian Kassel
Background to Foiehibition:
Force-feeding waterfowl so that rich, fat people can eat their livers has been a contentuous topic in America since Colonial times, but it wasn’t until 2012, when Hispanistan (then called California) passed Bill No. 1520 banning the sale, manufacture, transportation and consumption of foie gras, that the real history of Foiehibition is said to have begun.
It was during that same year, after insurmountable culinary scandals knocked Presidential candidates Barack Obama (Chitterlingate) and Mitt Romney (Mayonnaisegate) out of the race, and the subsequent surprise victory by fringe candidate and outspoken animal activist Casey Affleck, that the war on foie gras was truly launched.
Within a few weeks of his election, President Affleck formed a new federal executive department—Department of A Duck’s Interior—and ‘Fleckies’ (as Casey’s bird-hugging militants liked to be called) had formed grass-roots anti-pâté de foie gras tout court organizations in twenty-nine states, including Vigilantia (then called Texas) and West Dakota (made up of those sections of Nebraska and Wyoming that weren’t really bringing anything to the party anyway).
By the beginning of 2013, the organization had been taken over by pietistic, vegetarian religious denominations like Paul McCartneyism and the Pastafarians. The ‘Contemporance Movement’ (so-called under the misguided assumption that a modern approach to social reform required banning foie gras—and indeed, all cooked organ meats minced into rich, luxurious pastes with flavors ranging from deliciously buttery to musky and subtley bitter while being at once velvety and meaty and actually low in saturated fat) and had grown to nearly thirty million members, most of whom were bored suburban soccer moms on Adderall.
Protesting before food establishments like Le Bernardin in Rapetown (known as New York before Ron Paul’s election in 2016) and Citronelle in E. Lee D.C. (called Washington D.C. before the 2020 election of David Duke), they carried signs with the movement’s favorite slogans:
‘Live And Let Livers Live’ and ‘Save The Geese—Except For The Ones That Shit On Your Lawn And Bite Your Kids’ and ‘God Hates Garde Mangers, Even Straight Ones’, and of course, the famous rallying cry of über activist Carrie ‘Nation’ Fisher who revived her dead career by entering trendy Gayot ‘New & Notable’ restaurants, scolding the customers and breaking up the charcuterie stations with a Jedi light saber:
‘Lips That Touch Braunschweiger Will Never Touch Mine’.
Clearly, the country was on a juggernaut path toward a national ban on chopped, gavage-fattened goose liver blended with butter, Worcestershire Sauce, Armagnac, various spices and occasionally, truffles, and indeed, the soon-to-be-ratified Amendment XXVII introduced to the Senate on January 3, 2013 included provisions banning Beef Wellington and Strasbourg Pie along with a clause that not only changed our national bird to the Mulard—a cross between a male Muscovy Duck and a female Pekin duck—but gave middle-aged white male geese the right to vote.
To its credit, the new law allowed the sale of sacramental pâté to priests for the performance of certain high-cholesterol rituals such as Extremely Unctuous Unction.
Even so, it was rightly assumed by many skeptical chefs, a flood of French fops, countless food writers, gluttons, gourmands, grease-jockeys and even a few sane people, that the ban would lead to widespread law flouting. Almost immediately, the lack of a popular consensus for the Amendment resulted in massive political and police corruption along with the growth of a network of criminal liver-smuggling cliques including the infamous Terrine Gang of Shit-On-A-Shingleville (née South Chicago), led by the notorious Mafioso Al Capon.
Reputed to be the son of a neutered rooster and a female Mulard, ‘Scarf-face’ (owing, perhaps, to his insatiable appetite for succulent and delicately prepared specialties from Alsace and Périgord, including fig and Balsamic vinegar confit along with mountains of Transmontanus caviar, isothermically-cased smoked salmon and generally, pre-turn-of-the-century Sauternes) Capon took advantage of the hundreds of thousands of illicit ‘Blind Geese’ springing up throughout the country where one could enjoy bootlegged bloc de foie gras, foie gras entier, mousse de foie gras and parfait de foie gras—although these preparations were generally made with substandard ‘bathtub livers’ and often contained less than their legally-defined obligation.
Indeed, the first years of this decade became known as the ‘Roaring Other Twenties’.
It gradually became obvious to America that Foiehibition was biased against the elite, the sophisticated and the wealthy—who were the only people who could stomach the stuff in the first place—and that the law favored lower classes who really couldn’t care less if they ever again ate the amyloid-containing detoxification innards of certain species of slaughtered waterfowl.
Historian Maria Teresa García Ramírez de Arroyo Elí López writes, ‘A poor family could have a dozen Coleman coolers stuffed with gavage-based liver paste stacked up on their porch steps like so many Halloween pumpkins and nobody would give a flying you-know-what. But if a rich family had a single 4.8 oz. tin of Rougie Gourmet Duck Foie Gras in the pantry, here come the Untouchables.’
In 2025, after thirteen liver-lacking years, following the assassination of former President Casey Affleck by green-eyed brother Ben and PETA’s pornography indictment for featuring naked actors in their ads (thank God a Biblical compass has finally returned to this upstanding nation under our current carnivorous President Sarah Palin), the Twenty Ninth Amendment to the United States Constitution once again permits the systematic torture of immobile Mulards held in feces-ridden sheds where pipes are rammed down their throats three times a day and they’re force-fed several pounds of grain at a time so that their livers bloat to ten times normal size and develop a condition called hepatic steatosis, all for the hedonistic pleasure of weak-willed, overpaid, overweight fucktards.
I am not, of course, seeking to pass moral judgment on foie gras eaters. I am, in this essay, merely offering a truncated, if explicit overview of the events that followed the Hispani…Californian foie gras ban of July, 2012.
Lest I seem in any way biased, I will end not with the standardized dialectic essay conclusion, but with an apropos quotation from my favorite Thai poet, Poonlarp Chumphorn Damrongsak:
Look it up, beeotches.