Dairy

Dairy: (n) a shop or company that sells milk, butter, cheese, etc.

 It is easy to be health conscious if you’re negating a food you dislike.

I can stop eating frog legs tomorrow.

I have no problem rejecting the value of collard greens.

But when it comes to foods I enjoy I may agree with the prissy righteousness of those who reject them but maintain some faith in my heart for private moments—when I succumb to the temptation to partake.

Actually, food is very simple.

If it occurs naturally—that is, in its present form—you can eat it.

For instance, a cow, cut up into steaks, is not a natural occurrence. Although I may wish to lobby for that cause, cows are supposed to come put together, not butchered.

On the other hand fruits, nuts, berries, vegetables and those sorts of offerings, are right out there in front of God, you, me and every bird of the sky.

That takes us to dairy.

Cow’s milk was never meant to be drunk by anybody but calves, just as human milk was intended for our little bambinoes. But then it deteriorates. Taking that milk, skimming off the fattest portions to make cream, then butter and ending up with cheese is many false evolutionary steps from natural.

This is why these foods are delicious—by devilish design.

I grew up in a generation that believed that milk was good for you and built strong bones. But it wasn’t actually the milk, but the calcium, which is also found aplenty…in broccoli.

 

Crunchy

Crunchy: (adj) crisp or brittle.

Here I go again, bathing in the acid of honesty.

I don’t know why I do this. I could lie to you. You’d never know. It isn’t like you’re trying to vet me for government service.

I could deceive you like crazy.

But for some reason, I’ve settled in on this “schtick” of candor.

Truthfulness.

Honest, even if it makes me look a little dumb. Because I will tell you right now, looking a little dumb is better than lying and looking a lot dumb.

I don’t like crunchy things.

I just don’t.

People like their cereal crunchy.

Not me. I let mine sit around until it drowns, and the coroner arrives to confirm that it’s fully floppy and dead. As a kid, I often ate other children’s cereal they had rejected—“because it wasn’t crunchy anymore.”

Maybe that’s the root cause of my obesity. At least it would be fun to blame it on that.

I don’t like crunchy chicken.

You know—what they call “extra crispy?”

My French fries can be a little crispy—but if they’re a lot crispy, doesn’t that just mean they’re burned?

And I never got the idea of a crunchy candy bar. Has anyone ever tasted a Milky Way? No crunch anywhere. Just ecstasy.

I don’t like crunchy.

I will eat peanut brittle—only because I know that on the thirteenth chewing in my mouth, it turns into that delicious peanut butter paste I love so much.

Crunchy crunches.

And crunching is not a positive word. (Just consider your car.)

I don’t like to put my teeth into a reluctant apple. I know it sounds silly, but when an apple insists on being crisp and crunchy, I feel it’s just resistant to being eaten. Sometimes it even adds a sour disposition to match the crunch.

I have no criticism for people who like crunchy things, but my philosophy is, if you find yourself in the middle of the crunch…

Just pour on more milk and wait awhile.

 

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Churn

Churn: (v) to move about vigorously.

It all depends what you disrupt.

If you stir up and churn milk and have the patience to stay with it, you get creamy, sweet butter. On the other hand, you can probably sit all
day long churning dirt, and even if you add water, you will end up with muddy conclusions.

It isn’t always effective to motivate people or circumstances. If there is quality, intelligence, spirit and humility, then churning can bring about a beautiful, natural change.

But if people are stubborn, angry, racist and ignorant, churning normally initiates violence.

You’ve got to judge your circumstances.

Is there enough milk of human kindness in the people you’re dealing with to see them turn into butter?

 

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Calcium

Calcium: (n) the chemical element of atomic number 20, a soft gray metal.

I know there’s calcium in milk. It’s why, when I was a kid, I drank the stuff–because I was told it would “make my bones strong.”

Don’t you think bones are weird? I mean, we know they’re in our bodies–otherwise we couldn’t sit, walk or stand. But you can’t see them.

It’s kind of like having a soul. The absence of one is terrifying, but the presence just makes you upright.

So somewhere along the line, when I grew older, I was told that milk was no longer necessary because I did not need the calcium for my bones.

You know what’s funny? I didn’t even question that.

I even heard warnings that if you continued to take in too much calcium, you would get kidney stones. (As I said, please don’t repeat that–it’s just something that tripped across my ears.)

I’m glad I have bones, just like I’m glad I have a soul, and even though I don’t see my bones (unless there’s a really serious problem) likewise, my soul keeps me walking straight.

Unless…

Well, let’s not get into it.

 

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Breakfast

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Breakfast: (n) a meal eaten in the morning, the first of the day

It is part of the “wearing a coat” syndrome.Dictionary B

When I was a younger man, I often walked out into Ohio winters in a short-sleeved shirt, portraying to those lads and lasses around me that I was so engorged with virility that my body was nearly aflame.

Every attempt by adults to get me to wear a coat was eschewed as being “weak,” comically unnecessary.

I had much the same feeling about breakfast. Although I was a fat guy, I never ate breakfast. So all my food consumption fell within an eight-hour period–from noon to eight o’clock at night. Then I would go without any consumption of treats for sixteen hours.

It made me grumpy and actually ended up causing me to overeat–because once I was unleashed at the noon hour, I was a consuming hellion.

I don’t know why I didn’t want to eat breakfast. It was just that cool kids did not sit down in the morning in front of a plate and have their mommies make them bacon and eggs. I could have eaten cereal, but that would have required a bowl and retrieving milk from the refrigerator.

It was easier to walk out of my house coatless, nearly freezing to death, on an empty stomach–to prove that I was truly a beast of the wilderness.

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Boyfriend

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Boyfriend: (n) a male companion with whom one has a romantic or sexual relationship.

Certain words should have an expiration date, similar to milk at the grocery store.

Without this warning, these phrases can turn sour or just downright comical.Dictionary B

Last week at a stop-off in Battle Creek, Michigan, a seventy-eight-year-old woman introduced her male companion to me as “her boyfriend.”

I tried to be good, tolerant and let it pass, but that little imp in me who refuses to be proper, jumped in and inquired, “Did you guys meet at the malt shop?”

What was hilarious was that she gave me an answer.

“Actually, Starbucks,” she deadpanned.

It seemed right.

Starbucks is the new malt shop … where girls apparently find boyfriends. 

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Ahoy

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Ahoy: (exclam.) a call used in announcing the sighting of land from a ship.

Perhaps if I had lived during the time of the Spanish Armada, I would have appreciated the word much more.

Even if I had been an extra in a Gilbert and Sullivan opera, like the H.M.S. Pinafore, this term would have had great significance.

But the word “ahoy” to me, only conjures an association with chips–a delicious cookie I never purchase anymore for fear of overdosing, and being found dead in a puddle of my own milk.

Yes. “Ahoy” has been ruined by Nabisco. Chips Ahoy.

It is not a word of salty brine and billowing sails, but rather, cookies lined up, carefully broken in half to create dipping possibilities in my every-clumping milk products.

It hardly seems fair. And I really can’t recommend it.

I think we have to stop with the word “ahoy” and cease to taint perfectly good units of the language by limiting them to the consumption of food products.

  • For instance, I’m against “Alleluia Crackers.”
  • I don’t think we should manufacture “Jesus Hotdogs.”
  • And it is completely out of the question to put on tap “Loyalty Beer.”

Is there nothing sacred?

So my apologies to those who have sailed the seven seas, but my “ahoy” has to come in chocolate bits … or maybe even peanut butter.