It is no longer important for proclamations by those in high office to have any basis in reality, and so I must beg forgiveness for posting a family story hanging from the wrong branch of the tree. Apparently it was my dad's mother's mother's sister's husband who was offered the puppy stew when he was out lawyering in the Rosebud Territory of the Lakota Sioux. One way or another, the story needs Heinz 57.
The protagonist would happen to be the husband of the same great-great aunt who once hollered out the screen door to the meter-reader, "You can come in if your nose is clean." She was expecting a visit from my young dad or his older brother. They weren't any cleaner in the Twenties than small boys are now. I often want to tell my small students that they may enter my classroom if their noses are clean. I don't though.