Ok this is a rambling post about something that occurred to me the other night when I made fried chicken for my family. Mmmmmm fried chicken. MILK is a vegetarian so she pretends she doesn’t know how delicious fried chicken is, but deep down inside of her is a little girl sitting in front of our tiny TV in our crappy apartment ravaging a bucket of the Sander’s magic, and fighting with me over the last biscuit.

Everyone who does partake of the fowl knows that the best part of fried chicken is the crispy skin. You boneless skinless (tasteless) chicken eaters are the reason diet soda and decaf coffee ever became a thing, but that is for another rant.

Fried chicken skin is so good it should be sold in bags like pork rinds. But it isn’t. This bothers me.

How come the pork industry sells fried skin and the poultry industry doesn’t? You can buy pork cracklins all day long, and the farther into the south or Mexico you get the more you can buy in an increasingly wild array of flavors.

The really weird thing is the self-denying crowd somehow made boneless skinless chicken breasts a staple forever. It’s actually hard sometimes at the grocery store to even find skin-on chicken. WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE SKIN GOING????  Somewhere there is a freaky, secret, rich people enclave where you can hunt homeless people surrounded by bags and bags of fried chicken skin. “Dry Martini sir and a fresh clip for your 45? Oh and would you like Cool Ranch Chickips?” some groveling butler asks.

I’m sure of it. Donald Trump probably sits on his gold potty in the White House eating chicken chips and tweeting at 3am. Then, when he leaves, his staff rushes in and disposes of the evidence lest someone not in the club catches on.

It’s time to rise up and take back our skin, people. Who’s with me?

I got nothing left on this one.