Last night I moved back down to College Station for a grad internship this summer so I’ll be on and off throughout the week. Here is an amusing post I noticed over at Media Dystopia:
I didn’t want to be rude. If you’re in a Chinese restaurant — in this case, one in Markham, just north of Toronto — and deep-fried pigeon is prominently listed on the menu, is it polite to ask whether it’s local? I’m curious as to whether Canada has a thriving import market for pigeon when the bird — and its shit — is so abundant here. If so, is there anti-foreign-pigeon lobby working behind the scenes in Ottawa? Is there a crafty Canadian black market attempting to thwart the overseas pigeon cartels? Do young children supplement their allowances with homemade pigeon traps? Interesting questions all, but as the chances of me keeping a straight face while asking about the dish were slim to none, I skirted the issue altogether by ordering some less thought-provoking fowl: crispy chicken with black-pepper sauce and rice. (It was delicious.)
