Colonel Gandhi's Chicken

The question we should all be asking, whether we know the answer or not, is this: who in the world was Mohandas K. Gandhi? Sure, you're heard the name. You may even remember his face from Mad Magazine's History, Schmistory issue from a few years back. But who was he, really, and why are half of my breakfast products named after him?

The answer is more complex than it is simple. Mohandas Gandhi was a cigar-chomping Indian entrepreneur with a short temper and a talent for the tall tale. His life left a mark on the world that's been tough to scrub off, which should be the goal of any great man.

Gandhi came to world prominence as the world's fattest man in the first ever Big Fat Olympics in 1931. There he trounced the competition by being really really fat. He cruised on the fame of being so fat for several years, but eventually even his big fat popularity began to wane. This is what always happens throughout history: one day you're on top of the world for being a big tub of lard and the next day it's what have you done for me lately, fatso?

Gandhi kicked this problem right in the pants when pulled off the bold move of losing all that weight and becoming really amazingly skinny. He then claimed he lost the weight eating chicken. Medical reports show this was partially true, since he had picked up an orca-sized tapeworm from some undercooked chicken in New Delhi. When the tapeworm was removed it was so large it got Gandhi's record collection and his apartment, while he opted to move into a smaller place across town.

Riding high on the wave of his being-skinny-now fame, Gandhi opened chain of chicken restaurants that did very well. Known as Colonel Gandhi to fans of his chicken, Mohandas sought then to branch out into other enterprises, including a line of mylar-bagged salads and a novelty record label that pressed edible LPs. Neither were as delicious as his chicken, but they did have their advocates.

Gandhi briefly considered starting a dance craze, but soon abandoned that dream in order to fulfill his true vision for India: that everyone everywhere should have access to delicious chicken. People cheered in the streets when they heard of his plan, and Gandhi became a national hero overnight.

Unfortunately, back in that day the British owned all of India, which they had won years ago shooting craps with the Ottoman Empire. And being the pricks that they historically were, the Brits didn't want all of India getting slap-happy with delicious chicken while they had to choke down disgusting pork drippings smeared on stale English muffins. The complete disgustingness of British cuisine ruled the fates of many a people in the 19th and early 20th centuries, since the Brits had to conquer far and wide just to find a decent bite to eat.

The British told Gandhi to buzz off with his succulent rotisserie chicken, and that the people of India would have to make do with the gelatinous gravy-soaked nasty crap that the Brits called food. Gandhi thought they were kidding, and continued happily with his franchise expansion plans until the British proved they meant business by killing everyone in India. Don't try to follow the logic there, that's just the way the British did things back then. Luckily for the Indians, the Brits didn't really have a clue where the Indian people hung out, so they only actually ended up killing everyone who was hanging out at the one British pub in India, most of whom were British people and tourists.

The next day the British were shocked and awed to find Indian people out walking around in the streets, and from that moment on, old wives' tales of Indian reproductive prowess became a staple in British schools.

Gandhi sought to fight the injustice of British oppression by opening more chicken restaurants. The people applauded his defiance, and enjoyed his chicken. Over the next several years the British tried several increasingly ridiculous methods of quelling the Indian uprising, including outlawing savory flavor, forcing all known Indians to wear tight-fitting trousers and spraying crowds with cottage cheese. None of these were effective, however, as the people's love of Gandhi's chicken proved lasting.

Eventually Gandhi's methods of delicious resistance gained popularity all over the world, and the British gave up, leaving India with several take-out boxes of mouth-watering chicken under their arms. The people would have rejoiced, but they were really full and figured that a vague thumbs-up gesture communicated their approval well enough.

Years later Gandhi was assassinated by a religious fanatic who believed that chicken so good it made your dick hard was against God's plan. He wasn't arrested, since India is more of a "you made your bed now sleep in it" kind of nation, and instead he was just banned from all 12,000 Colonel Gandhi's chicken locations. Amnesty International has tried to intervene on his behalf, as have the manufacturers of several fake-nose-and-mustache disguise kits, but despite their best efforts the assassin has lived for years in delicious chicken purgatory.

Some historians have argued that Gandhi, while a fun guy, was served too generous a slice of historical notoriety given his accomplishments. They often sing another tune, however, when really hungry. Such is human nature.

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