HOW DO YOU ROAST IT?

He held me responsible. Apparently my people had impoverished the world by doing it. And I was an evil representative of "some kind of mutant viking redneck". For much of that short and far too brief conversation I didn't admit to a thing, and asserted my innocence.

I had made the mistake of mentioning that some of my ancestors came over during the seventeenth century, when Dutch fleets controlled the seas and blew all those Johnny Bulls Come Lately out of the water.
As well as the Spanish and the Portuguese.

Consequently, he averred that I was co-guilty of crimes against humanity.

Which, naturally, because I did not personally still derive benefit from our great successes and rapacity, I was disinclined to take any responsibility for, and refused to feel guilty about.


Before deciding that the conversation had some merits after all, and I might as well go with it.


"Okay, we did it. And it was just great! Totally effing stupendous. Yuge! We aren't ashamed in the slightest. We invaded Morrisey and hunted them all down. Slaughtered their entire tribe, exterminated them all. You will never see them roaming the veld in vast herds, kind of loud, majestic, and impressive, because we killed them. We cooked the bejayzus outta them.
They absolutely no longer exist because of us.
We were hungry, and we ate the Dildo."


Morrisey is east of Madagascar.

The Wallow Bird, or "dod-aersch", was very good to eat.
Unfortunately, I cannot find any recipes on the internet.


You try living on salt pork and ship's biscuit for months on end sometime.


My chance-met conversational partner was a college graduate.




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