It’s a rare occurrence when your humble food critic feels urged to address social issues. But as can be seen in The Lantern’s editorial “Chicken, Anyone?” which ran Monday, Feb. 18 – a certain segment of my fried-chicken-loving community has come under attack.

By offering fried chicken sales during Black History Month, blacks everywhere have been unfairly labeled as fried chicken lovers.

Anyone with half an intellect can understand that simply being African American doesn’t automatically enlist one in Colonel Sander’s army any more than being Irish American makes one a drunk. Just imagine what would happen if area bars started offering drink specials on St. Patrick’s Day. Why there’d be riots in the streets.

But what about the poor, unfortunate, chicken-loving souls that just happen to be black? Should they continue to embrace fried chicken despite its accompanying stereotype? Of course they should and I’ll tell you why: Besides being part of their rich culinary heritage, it’s frikkin’ delicious.

Well, it’s delicious so long as you’re not stuck eating at KFC, 2700 N. High St. Thanks to my negative review last spring (and the Gateway Project) Cluck-U has closed, handing the mantle of “Most God-Awful Chicken” over to the Colonel. And besides having the foulest chicken left on campus, only the deaf could endure the loud, obnoxious, complaining woman behind the counter.

If one hates their Kentucky-fried occupation enough to shout about it, surely there’s a Denny’s down the street to better match their ambitious career objectives.

One of my favorite co-masticators, Patty Cunningham shares in my fried-chicken habit. She ordered the three-piece, dark meat combo and writes, “The best part of this meal was the Pepsi and the biscuit. The chicken was greasy, even for fried chicken and instantly laid heavy on my stomach.”

Co-masticator Gavin agrees writing, “I remember the chicken being tastier. This had obviously been sitting under a heat lamp for a long time.”

Even the “Extra-Crispy” variety failed to have the enough breading to ensure structural integrity. Merely taking but one bite of the chicken threatens to land you with a handful of extra-crispy refuse. The breading simply tasted like grease – the eighth not-so-secret ingredient in the Colonel’s recipe.

At least two dishes, not including the chicken strips, include the aforementioned strips as their main ingredient.

The chicken “Twister Combo,” as described by co-masticator Zack was, “Sort of appealing to those on diets. It was very plain, just a couple of chicken strips thrown into a burrito with some lettuce and tomato.” The chicken strip sandwich just throws the same three chicken strips onto a bun.

I wish I could write columns the same way KFC creates recipes: I could just take a few of your favorite paragraphs, rearrange them, and call it something else. Sure beats working for a living.

A few of the side dishes warrant mention. The potato wedges, as described by co-masticator Mark, were “Hot and crispy without being overdone. Impressive for fast food at eight o’ clock.” Potatoes of the mashed variety were average, at best.

The macaroni and cheese, in addition to being runny, was near flavorless. By comparison, the cole slaw was creamy, tasty, but could use a little more zest and a little less mayonnaise.

Frankly speaking, sheer laziness is the only reason I eat at KFC. What else could possibly discourage me from seeking out the nearest Popeye’s Chicken and Biscuits? As far as Patty and I are concerned, KFC stands for one thing only – Kan’t Fry Chicken.

Hank Mylander is a senior from Westerville majoring in information systems. In his opinion, Kentucky fries its movies far better than it fries its chicken. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].