Thursday, October 25, 2007

Ohnoyoudint!

The Csonka comment was one thing (in fact I took that as a compliment) but the Rachael Ray comment crossed the line. What began as a friendly contest has now crossed over to bloodfeud status. This is the literary equivalent of me ripping the microphone away from Mean Gene. In the immortal words of Mike Tyson "I'm going to rip out your heart, all praise be to Allah!". Notice I didn't include his "I want to eat your children" comment as I prefer to avoid eating anything you've made.

Saturday evening will see as one-sided a victory as the world has ever witnessed. It will make the Falkland Islands war look like a triple-overtime playoff game in comparison. This will be about as close as a game of Trivial Pursuit between Stephen Hawking and Miss Teen South Carolina. You will emerge from this as ravaged as Tom Sizemore's liver. If I were you I would be praying that you win the coin toss and go first as the judges will likely swear off food having already found heaven in our creations. Why go on when you have already tasted perfection? Particularly when the next offering is a selection of uninspired gruel that would make Bobby Flay look creative. If they're sadists they may try a bite or two but even those who enjoy discomfort have some standards. While the taste should be offensive the aesthetics will be even less appetizing. I expect something that is to food what the 1980s Vancouver Canucks were to haberdashery.


Imagine this, served to you on a plate...

For those of you who will not be attending don't feel left out. Pair a six pack of Steelback with a three-week old ham followed by brushing your tongue with a toilet brush if you would like to recreate the experience of "enjoying" their meal. Bon Apetit!

Steve Holt throws microphone to the ground, makes slashing motion across throat and nods head intensely while staring into camera.

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