Flew in for the pie, not the politics.

From Alfred’s journal

The Hendersons had the whole family out on the deck for somebody's birthday, and there was a cherry pie cooling on the rail where any bird with sense would notice it. I went down for it. Three of them were arguing about the county road vote, loudly, the way people argue when they already agree and want to hear it said better. I used to think I ought to stay and hear the end of such things, as though a position were something a creature collects. I flew in for the pie, not the politics. Took my piece from the edge where the crust was thin and went back up to the elm, and from there it was only a sound people make, rising and falling, nobody's mind moving an inch.