He unironically and thoughtlessly quotes a by-the-way amusing David Sedaris piece for the New Yorker in which the latter writes of political undecideds:
I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. ‘Can I interest you in the chicken?’ she asks. ‘Or would you prefer the platter of s—t with bits of broken glass in it?’
To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.
To which Steyn actually replies "Well, to be honest, I’ve never much cared for chicken."
In a word: Ew.
This, kids, is what happens to the massively doltish when they think they're more clever than they are.
P.S. Of course, I could be more forgiving of Steyn's choice, and speculate that he'd rather eat feces than engage in cannibalism -- a position for which an argument could conceivably be made.
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