(Prior posting from my old webspace)

I have been sitting at this keyboard for what seems like hours now, trying to come up with some form of fun to ply to page, and pillage with panache! It should be called a “keybored” on days like today.

Then it struck me. Write what I know. So scribe I shall.

Hamburgers.

I love them. I have “Wimpy” from Popeye down pat! Fuck the spinach, just grill ’em up and stuff them in!

Aah.. paradise.

Well, that trip to paradise was nice while it lasted.

It’s unfortunate, but this “mariner” is now about the good ship “I N S U L I N”, and the days of “sweet trips to the candy shop” let alone McDicks are now a fabulous but fading memory.

It’s sad really. I’ve gone from Wolverine to Screwy Wabbit in less than a month. I now enjoy a repast of things best left to gerbils and guinea pigs. Hello.. TASTE??? Where art thou? When did flavor suddenly become so deadly. When did my love of all things sizzling suddenly threaten me with becoming a male Little Orphan Annie!

I want my Vitamin Meat, DAMN YOU!

I know it’s all for the best. I’ll lose my moobies, and I’ll once again see my waist due to a lack of taste, but it still is frustrating beyond belief.

I’d love to live in a world where I could simply blink my ponytail, and everything would suddenly be like a reality version of The Lion King. I could simply sing my Disney songs of inspiration and mirth while ripping apart a few zebra’s for lunch, and not having to worry about my cholesterol or sugars whilst I dined on my buddy from the herd down below.

I want to be reincarnated as something very high up the food chain. Something that can be turned into a computer animated film after lunch.

God, I would kill for Subway right about now. Something meatball filled!!!! Hell, I’d fill the damned foot-long with as many meatballs as I could cram into it’s crevasse. And then I’d fill it beyond the point of being eaten with any modicum of decorum.

Fuck it, hold the bread, I’ll take the entire tray, thank you very much!

My ex commented on how funny it was that “Oog the Caveman” was suddenly thrust into a cabbage patch for din din.

He should be able to breathe on his own any day now.

I guess that diet coke will have to replace my ginger ale and club soda. I lament the taste of soap that aspartame leaves in my mouth. Just gross.

I suppose Tofu burgers are ok.. if you want to eat crud disguised as something wonderful.

They say to eat only a piece of meat the size of a deck of cards, and as thick as my pinkie.

I don’t think so.

The body count at the restaurant would be staggering.  You don’t want to tempt me with meat then tell me one forkful is all I get. I’d turn green, and my clothes would fall off as I grew to murderous proportions.

If I’m gonna eat meat, my motto is: just leave the cow, thanks. I’ll take care of the rest.

All creatures great and small would lie lifeless in my path if I was a farmer. Peta would likely send Pam Anderson out to try to reason with Odd McDonald on his farm. She’d be running the other direction as I took my rack of ribs and beat her to death singing “EIEIO” between the blows to her silicone silos.

I will have to make peace with a meatless life. I will have to be strong and understand that I cannot be that guy anymore.

The cow gets his revenge if I do, cos it’ll be me sleeping on the wrong side of grass as Elsie grazes from above.

So, tonight as I engage in my dinner, my mind will say to itself “French or Ranch”.

It may not smell good on a bbq, but it keeps me from being fried.

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