EATING IN THE MIND

In a past life I must have been a right bastard, which is why I am destined to eat convenience store crap for lunch at work. Which I just cannot understand, as I am absolutely a bleeping Christian to the senile Republican blisters gibbering and drooling in the back room. Including a person I will call "Sausalito Smut Iing William", who is convinced that the election was hacked by the Democrats who turned several states blue.

Yes, that must be it. Punishment for a previous life. During which I was uncharacteristically lees than fully tolerant of people who should be attacked with pitchforks and torches.
And guillotines.

The only other stuff within easy distance is fast food burgers.

I'm sorry, that's the kind of horrorshow kibble that people in fly-over state trailerparks might eat for Sunday dinner. It's a feast for the entire family. All dozen plus of them.
At least, I can well imagine it would be.
It's cuisine!

Okay?

Food is NOT supposed to be trauma.


Today's lunch was barely even food. Please don't supersize me.

In my mind's tongue, I am actually within a short hop, skip, and jump, of a nice authentic Chinese restaurant with a devoted following of university faculty, perhaps in the pre-war period, in a region with a decent climate and imported tobacco products.

So nowhere in the fly-over states. Even if they have gone blue.
I don't care what's on the grill next to the trailer.
For all I know, it had a mommy.
Who is angry.



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