Feast

     I love to eat. Earlier today my much better half produced ginger infused chicken wings and batter-coated, deep-fried sweet potato sticks. I of course washed this down with a cold 16oz Budweiser. A-roi mak. (damned delicious) And that's all that needs to be said really.
     I'm left dumbfounded by some television programming concerning food and eating. I truly appreciate Andrew Zimmern and Tony Bourdain who host intelligent, informative shows that highlight the culture of cooking and eating as they luckily travel the globe. On the other hand, there are some 30 minute pukes that really get under my skin. Adam whats-his-name stuffs his fucking face to abusive extremes and I'm supposed to cheer him on? "Man vs. Food" should be retitled "Dumb-Fuck Gets Colon Cancer." "Diners Drive-Ins and Dives" should simply be called "Half an Hour With a Fat Ass." The host of the latter, Guy Ferry, looks like a spoiled little rich-boy beach-punk with a half mile of distended large intestine. 'TV Guide' haphazardly tags the show: American road food is sampled coast to coast. I suppose someone who has just had an electrolarynx installed could masturbate to this garbage, but the average American household should not under any circumstance be enthralled by witnessing a fluffy-faced weirdo with his sunvisior on backwards AND upside down shove a steaming, oozing quarter pound chili and cheese dog as far as he possibly can into his throat, and after a few furious chews spew out only: "Mmmhmmm..." as if he and the viewers are equally surprised.
     I may be jealous of the fact that these hosts gain much more capital than I for much less work, but I am in no way envious of their pounding, sweating, laboring hearts. Cheers you bastards, enjoy your Thanksgivings. I'll be thinking of you when my loved ones embrace me with warm open arms that go all the way around my body.