In a Pickle

One of the cable news stations this evening featured an interview with yet another former political operative who trashed the opposition's strategy, by claiming they were "in a pickle".  To which my youngest son Tim (high school senior + sharp as a tack) retorted to the TV "I don't want the government legislating what sort of pickle I may enjoy!", which initiated a whole improvised comedy routine between the two of us in the form of a cable news schlock interview on the subject of government oversight of pickles and pickling.  Well, we thought it was funny.

And since when is being in a pickle such a bad thing?  I love pickles. Well most pickles.  Real pickles, made from real cucumbers.  My favorite pickles can be found at Rein's Deli in Vernon. CT.  The Half-Sours are to die for.  I know there are a million great pickles, and picklers in the Greater NYC Metro area, but I'm sticking with what I love.

A little research has yielded this very early use of our featured phrase written by the Bard himself from "The Tempest":

ALONSO:

And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they

Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?

How camest thou in this pickle?

TRINCULO:

I have been in such a pickle since I

saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of

my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Whatever. All I'm saying is being in a pickle, may not be such a bad thing.