Special bloggy thanks now and always to the people who read/listen to this thing, as well as Audacity 2.0 software, Blue microphones, Doris Troy, and Paul Anka and Buzzsprout.
I went back to work today after nasty bout with food poisoning. The details are too detailed, but I can say that I will try to eat healthier, more nutritious meals. The illness stemmed from “dining” at a sandwich shop whose owners pride themselves on the speed with which they produce subs, but not so much on what really goes into the product. All my life, I’ve reveled in owning a cast iron stomach, but the Porkinator did me in (and judging by it’s name…duh). Vegetables, are no better. Unwashed havens of death, veggies are. You’d be better off eating from the men’s room floors at the Cleveland Greyhound depot than you would trying to live the healthy, balanced dietary life. In fact, I have, but there isn’t any reason to kiss and tell. Where is the Jolly Green Giant when you need him? We need more imaginary Madison Avenue advertising creations to benevolently watch over humanity and protect us from food borne danger.
Yesterday was Earth Day, and I didn’t have much time to think about careers in the nutritional super hero field (what, with all the puking and crying “Lord, kill me now”). Today, however is a blessed new day for the world, and I feel no shame in filling out an application to be the Jolly Green Giant. I have some of the qualifications down. Sewing a ginormous leafy loin covering skirt should be no problem. I got straight B’s in Home Economics. My complexion is seriously green, which is possibly a lingering effect of the Porkinator. The 85-foot tall height requirement is a kind of tough to break through. How does one become 85 feet tall? I’ll have to ask the folks at the Green Giant vegetable company. How many bags of frozen peas does a person have to eat to get that tall? Never mind the kind of genetic mutation loaded into the peas to induce such spectacular growth. Where in the blazes does an 85-foot behemoth of advertising genius sleep? Standing up? Oh, and what about all of that natural, jolly green fertilizer? God forbid old boy ever gets food poisoning. Every time the folks hear “Ho, Ho, Ho” they’d better run. On second thought, maybe I’ll just be careful about the food I put into my body and leave the work of Jolly Green Giant-ing to the advertising mutants. Ho Ho Ho.