1954 was not a good year for France. The war in Vietnam ended with the humiliating defeat at Dien Bien Phu, the Algerian War of Independence began, and the government of Pierre Mendes-France fell, although it must be pointed out that the governments of the Fourth Republic fell with such astonishing rapidity that falling was their salient characteristic. French governments became so good at falling that three of them signed contracts with Ringling Bros. to take the falling act on the road with Neil Moriarity at the wheel. In addition to these catastrophes, or perhaps because of them; causation is difficult to ascribe in a field as complicated as politics; Victor Biaka’bodo, a representative of the Ivory Coast to the French National Assembly, went home to his native district to do some electioneering and was promptly hit over the head and eaten by his constituents. The details of this astounding success in the French mission civilatrice can be found in the first edition of that trustworthy tome, The People’s Almanac.

However, it is not our intention to bring up this moment of Franco-African gastropolitical history to elicit a cheap chuckle or even a Twizzler, although that would be almost too easy to do, but rather to ask why so few politicians are, in fact, eaten by their constituents. Politicians are a cheap and readily available source of protein and several B-complex vitamins, but are not, according to the United States Department of Agriculture, a significant source of iron or dietary fiber. Taking a multiculturalist every day along with a glass of buttermilk and a handful of casino chips will compensate for this nutritional shortcoming.

Politicians are best used in dishes where they can be stuffed with meat and vegetables; they make excellent ravioli or pirogi. The cook must soak the politician first in hot water and remove the ego, which takes up a good 90% of the average sized politician and also serves as a vestigal spine, and then stuff them quickly before their lawyers catch wind of what you’re up to. Once stuffed, a politician easily becomes a statesman and then leftovers that can last from Thanksgiving to Presidents Day. A word of warning: American politicians may be genetically modified and are, more often than not, filled with preservatives in the form of hair spray and campaign contributions. Bon appetit!