OK, I've been whipped into a meat frenzy. Now I want meat. Red raw meat. I want them to lead it in on a rope and I want it to "moo" when I bite into it. I don't want anybody I know to see me eating rice pilaf or turkey fresco.

In fact, I don't want anybody who knows anybody I know to see me doing so. I want a dignified American meal of steak and potatoes, served with flagons of blood-red wine.

I want french red wine, with a picture of a cow on the label. I want to think about eastern europeans making this wine for slave wages and making it badly. I want the whole bottle. I want several. I want it served on a white tablecloth and I want that tablecloth to be so soiled when I'm done that it can't even be used for rags.

I want a Thanksgiving meal to remember, in the midst of bawdy company. I want someone to tell off-color jokes and I want everyone to laugh until they cry.

I want to generate gossip. I want media coverage. I want arrests. I want some careers to be launched and others destroyed.

I want my arteries to soften up.

If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.