Keep up the good work. Next we should get serious about just who we let into the
art show and convention. Maybe we could get a questionnaire together to find out
about the race, creed, political beliefs, last book read, whether or not they like Star Trek
or Star Wars, and other stuff like that for the attendees. I mean, if we start letting in a
bunch of damn unicorn lovers who knows where it will end?
I am greatly distressed by your arbitrary censorship of unicorn themes in artistic
and commercial presentations on the premises of your upcoming fantasy convention.
Such a ban betrays a benighted and provincial attitude of the worst sort, and bodes ill
for one's hope of attending a convention which will entertain and edify on all manner
of subjects relating to the fantasy realm. Unicorns have always been a staple at the
fantasy feast, and I feel compelled to assert that Chairman Rems dislikes them so much
only because he has never had one properly served.
God knows, the British school of fantasts (Peake, regrettably, foremost among
them), has numbed the enthusiast's taste for the unicorn by serving him up marinated,
or baked to a chewy gray lump which no gravy can rescue, or even criminally stewed
like a goat. The culinary abuses of this delicate, tender meat by the British and some of
their Continental toadies have so demoralized the present day chef de jantaisie that even
the most basic recipes for roasting the leg or preparing a crown of chops are left
mouldering in dusty, obscure indexes.
Only let Chairman Rems sit down to a plate blessed with civet of unicorn, or a
unicorn leg roasted to rare perfection and served with Poivrade sauce and mandrake
root, Dauphine, and he will begin to appreciate what the unicorn has meant to
sensitive palates over the centuries. Or he may simply imagine a crown of unicorn
cutlets, garnished with mushrooms-of-the-forest, or perhaps glazed with wild honey.
Indeed, he may be better of not imagining, for to embark on such a venture of gustatory
speculation is to be doomed, thanks to the unfortunately successful efforts of
"conservationists" (as well as the aforementioned fantasts), time and again to
disappointment, frustration, and despair.
These hapless "conservationists" have, through their shrill cries of "cruelty!" in
the matter of legitimate unicorn cuisine, engineered the virtual extinction of unicorn
herds in the civilized world: by protecting the unicorn from the occasional gourmet,
they have destroyed the domestic-unicorn market. In this sorry age of ours, unicorn
meat can be obtained only from poachers in remote corners of the earth, persons known
to use especially unsavory methods to capture their prey.
Attitudes like those held by Chairman Rems, which would relegate the unicorn to
his mythical, non-commercial (and non-viable) status, have brought those who love the
unicorn best to a pathetic status: forced to rely on grisly and ill-mannered foreigners for
the indulgence of their fondest and most sophisticated appreciation. I urge that the
entire convention committee be my guest for a proper dinner featuring the unicorn in
his most favored state. After such a singular repast, I am certain that the committee will
regain its sense with respect to using the unicorn, and join the struggle to restore the
unicorn gourmet to respectability. It would be nothing short of tragic to deny true
unicorn lovers a chance to enlighten the general public further on this graceful,
delicate, and exquisitely delicious beast.
Andrew Alsace, Pseud.