Sunday, April 30, 2006
The saying goes, "You are what you eat." It's not the most profound adage I've ever heard, but there is a certain touch of truth, if only symbolic, in its message.
I have decided to take some time to ponder that message. I'll delve deep into it's meaning, but I'm not about to go spelunking into caverns of the imagery of that the phrase. I'm going to remain on the surface and take those words at face value.
Come along, walk with me through the neighborhood....
Accompanied by the echo of her hooves on the sidewalk, that's Mrs. O'Leary approaching us. Please forgive me for saying so, but she has one helluva set of udders. She is nodding a hello to us as she moo-ves on past us. You see, Mrs. O'Leary is an avid patron of McDonalds' and Burger King.
Ah, here comes Mr. Green. Did you ever see that old movie, "The Day of the Trifids?" Yes, the one where spores from space create walking plants. Well, I have to admit that I find it somewhat disconcerning talking to an asparagus spear. In his defense though, he does have a buttery-melt-in-your-mouth pleasant personality.
The Bakers live around the corner. It seems that Mrs. Baker is constantly baking. Whether it be cookies, breads, cakes or pies, the aromas can be smelled several blocks away carried by the breezes. Let her find that someone is having a birthday or an anniversary, you best believe she'll be showing up at their door with some special confection. Her husband looks like he is the official taster and benefactor of her hobby. It should be noted that his nickname is Poppy.
Mr. Meyer lives in that mustard-yellow house across the street. He is a bit introverted because of a difficult childhood, they say. It seems that all of the other kids were always trying to take a bite of him. It's ironic, wouldn't you agree, that his food of choice is the frankfurter? He may be tall and lanky, but don't call him a weiner!
His next door neighbor is a recluse of a sort. He is seldom seen around the neighborhood. Someone suggested he is disfigured and unsightly. Someone else said he was grossly obese, like a mass of putty. Judging by the trash he puts out, Mrs. Meyer said he eats a lot of tofu and soy products.
That white house on the corner is owned by the Frost family. They're away now. Unlike a lot of folks around here who go to Florida during the winter months, the Frosts migrate north of the Arctic Circle to Greenland during the summer. Their snow and ice sculptures and Christmas decorations are unrivaled for miles around. An apparent steady diet diet of ice cream and other frozen treats only enforces the fact that they love the cold weather. Talk about your Abominable Snow cones!
You probably know some people that remind you of a particular food item. They don't have to literally resemble the food, but rather may have characteristics and mannerisms that render a vision of some food stuff.
....I like to look at people in the news, celebrities and sports figures, etc. Even though he struggles to keep his head above water, Terrell Owens has never been see eating fish on a regular basis. It's little wonder that his favorite entree is crow.
....Take Michael Jackson, for instance. Knowing his affinity for small and young males, it should come as no surprise that his cuisine of choice would consist of bantam rooster.
....Now, how could I possibly spotlight someone in the news and not include our President. Many people see one of his attributes as his "beady" eyes. They may be beady, but I see them as multi-faceted. He may not buzz around on wings, but his culinary taste buds lend themselves to hot gourmet manure. That's right, he eats shit!
....So, what's on your menu? You don't care to divulge that information, huh? I can't say as I blame you. I am of the mindset that not all the things we eat have negative reflections on us. Some of you are Teddy Bears, dolls and angels, and i'm sure you don't eat any of those things. Being as sweet as honey can make you a Teddy Bear. I'm sure that you're an angel if you eat angel food cake.
....You snakes and worms out there, might not actually sup on things that slither, but if the shoe fits .... To all those assholes, I think I'll just leave this to everyone's imagination.
....I know some of you are waiting with breath for me to breech a certain tasty delight, but I'm going to stay away from that better reserved behind bedroom doors.
....It's time to close. You'll have to excuse me ... I have to cough up a hair ball!
Curmudgeon responsible for this post: Hale McKay at 12:27 AM