The other day I got lunch at KFC.  Now, this might not seem like a big deal, but in my neck of the woods you have to drive almost an hour to get to a KFC.  As always, though, it was worth it.  I'm pretty picky about my chicken.  Popeye's is all right, I guess.  They've got some tasty and spicy mashed potatoes.  But KFC is still the original and the best.  I'm fairly confident that Colonel Sanders made a deal with the devil to get that finger licking good original recipe.  I also think at least a couple of the eleven secret herbs and spices are probably controlled substances.  I detect a slight hint of opium along with the parsley and the thyme.  Brand names aside, I'm very selective about what parts of a chicken I'll eat.   I won't even get started on livers.  That's just nasty.  Also knowing that it's the part of the body that detoxifies the blood of dope smoking, hung-over chickens is a real turnoff.  No, what I'm talking about is white meat versus dark meat.

I'm pretty sure entire wars have been waged throughout history over whether white was better than dark.  I can't really back that claim up, but I'm sure it's in some history book somewhere.  I'm betting that if you look really closely at the whole Boston Tea Party, you'll see evidence of just such a thing.  I mean, why did they need the tea??  That's right, to wash down the chicken.  And I'm pretty sure that my boys, the colonialists, preferred dark meat.  They were rebels, and they knew their chicken.  The British, well, you just know they were eating white meat in their fancy stagecoaches and Shakespearian theaters.  They were all, "by Jove, this white meat is delectable" and highfalutin crap like that.  But not the colonialists.  No, they were chowing down on some deep fried dark meat and talking 'bout a revolution.

Sometimes I try to go with the flow and just eat chicken breast.  It would be easy to give in to the onslaught of KFC peer pressure and just go with it.  But try as I might, I just can't get into the chicken breast.  First of all, the meat is dry.  It's like eating turkey.  Turkey sucks.  And it's bland.  You have to pour so much salt on it that it looks like a stereotypical 1980's stockbroker just sneezed all over it.  Just getting to the meat is no small endeavor.  Just how many freaking bones are there in a chicken breast anyway?  You've got bones crisscrossing all over the place.  It's like navigating a bone marrow maze just to get to the food.  I get tired trying to eat.  I need to take a nap before I ever get to those heavenly mashed potatoes and gravy, not to mention that scrumptious, buttery biscuit.  And when I finally do get to the meat, it's gone in a flash because there really isn't that much there.  The whole thing is basically bone.  Is it a meal or an arts and crafts project?  It's not worth the hassle.

To be honest, I'm even picky about the dark meat.  The thigh, albeit dark meat by definition, is really a pretender to the throne.  It's only one step above the breast when it comes to ease of eating.  It looks more like a boomerang than a meal.  And the meat, while not totally lacking in flavor, leaves much to be desired.

That brings us to the gist of the deal:  the chicken leg.  If there was ever such a thing as a perfect meal, it's a KFC chicken leg.  Think about it.  That thick end of the leg, where the meat is located?  It's the closest thing to an "open for a business" sign that you could hope for.  It's not a piñata filled with Skittles.  No, that's where yum-yum resides.  And, hey there, what's that on the other end?  It's God's version of a handle.  You don't need a map.  You don't even need a fork.  All you need is common sense.  The thing comes with its own eating utensil.  You pick it up by the handle and you eat the meat.  As for the taste, remember how awesome Jessica Alba's butt looked in a swimsuit in "Into the Blue," particularly the snorkeling scene near the beginning of the movie?  OK, find some way to take that image and convert it into a flavor.  That's all I need to say about that.  It's crispy fried heaven.  No wonder chickens walk around the barnyard like they own the place.  They have to know that there walking on two sticks of potential perfection.

Hey, if you're up for it, the chicken leg, even a finished one, can even function as entertainment.  I can't tell you how times I've used a couple of freshly eaten chicken legs as makeshift drumsticks.  Nothing brings the recognition and admiration of the other KFC diners as a super-fly smooth rendition of Tone-Loc's "Wild Thing" in the middle of the KFC on a Saturday night.

In conclusion, KFC chicken leg = God's perfect food.  Everything else = not a KFC chicken leg.

Don't hate me because I'm cool.  Just grab a Kentucky Fried Chicken leg, put on a satisfied greasy smile, and hug somebody today.  Because that's what I'm about, and that's how I roll.