As I embark on the journey that is the making of a porkchop birthday cake for my good friend’s girlfriend, I am reminded of how much I love meat. Love, love, love. I have a man-like inclination towards it, even. On sticks, fried, grilled, burnt, in sandwich situations, in buns, socially, alonely, morning meat, dinner meat, birthday meat, man meat, what?, lunchmeat, fishmeat, out of town expensive meat, meat bits, cheap Dees nuts meat – all. Except – of course – fake meat. I don’t allow it. Not at all. F u, tofu.  In summation, well- uh – meat. And then also, this:


I don’t know about you, but I’d like to color that in with a 48 pack of fresh crayola’s, and/or digest it.

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