what i really want

a synthetic life, bumping into

walls on your 

cell

phone. and people,

you

don't even 

see.



eating big box at red 

lobster or fri-

day's o'charley's pan-

era or

chili's texas road-

house ruby

tuesday's.


good-bye, ruby

tuesday.



shopping big box

this Christm, i mean....

holiday.



designers. custom.

high end.

surprise me, why don't you,

with a 

pie.



from your

kitch-

en.








  

weatherism. and soup.

since it's the national pastime to be offended, i'm offended. i'm offended by people who assume i like sunny, warm weather. OF.FEND.ED.


people can. not. be. lieve. it. when they learn i like winter. i like cold, i like snow, i like ice. i like driving in it. i like being stranded in it. i. like. it.

no, you don't, they say. you don't like it. you might think you like it, but you don't really like it.

i do, i say. i like it.

well, they say, you wouldn't like it if you lived in minnesota.

i would.

you would not, could not in alaska.

i would. could! on a boat! with a goat!

in a box! with a fox!



i like it.



besides. soup in hot weather is no fun.


neither are green eggs and ham.

food. it's what's for dinner.

i am not on the non-GMO bandwagon. i am not on the organic one.

i don't  really care, apart from economics, if it was grown locally or not.

if you're gluten-sensitive, fine. but i'm not.

i buy stuff from walmart.

i no longer think stacking food vertically on a plate is cool.

white bread still makes the best toast.

a regular burger is fine.

i would like to live in west virginia and just eat ham.

when this last bottle of balsamic vinegar is gone, i will not be replacing it.

if you want to do a juice fast, fine. but i don't.

i don't hate monsanto.

bacon and eggs will not kill me. and if they do, fine. something has to.

pizza is supposed to be bad for you.

i would like to live in kentucky and just eat ham.

the expiration dates don't get my panties in a bunch.

red eye gravy is the most under-appreciated food in the world.

cook like your grandma cooked.

white rice. thank you.

enough with the sweet potato fries thing.

eat your next tomato like an apple. at the sink.

catfish, slaw, and hush puppies.

the blue plate special is special.

meatloaf.

think huck finn, tom sawyer, and sheriff andy taylor.

i would like to live in alabama and just eat ham.




while you're at it, teach your kids (you shouldn't even have to) how to play cowboys and indians, too.

what to eat during the game tonight

unless you're sick, you like food. and even if you're sick, you're waiting around not to be sick so you can like food again.


food is a funny thing. it's personal but it's also very cultural. there are certain foods that certain groups of people tend to eat and certain foods that certain groups of people don't tend to eat. like, say, macaroni and cheese:

until maybe 20 years ago or so, i had never in my whole life heard of eating macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving (or for Christmas). i had an african-american client tell me about 20 years ago that his favorite part of thanksgiving dinner was the macaroni and cheese. and i was like........what?????? 

i repeated my question to him, "what's your favorite part of thanksgiving dinner," and he repeated his answer - macaroni and cheese. i was tempted to change his diagnosis from depression to major depression - with psychotic features.

but, he opened a door for me and by walking through it, i learned, for the first time in my life, that african-americans like to eat macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving. my discovery hardly altered the course of civil rights in this country but it did make me wonder why whites don't eat it, too. i mean, come on.........macaroni and cheese????? you can't get any better than that.


two days after thanksgiving this year (well, last year, i guess.....2014), rudy and i had breakfast with a (caucasian) friend and her (caucasian) ex-husband who's probably going to be her (still caucasian) husband again if they can work things out which i'm pretty sure they can. but i digress.

we had breakfast with these white folks and somehow or other, macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving came up for discussion and my friend said, sure. they had macaroni and cheese for thanksgiving.

and i was like.........what???????

sure, she said. didn't you?

didn't i???????

yeah, she said. didn't you?

no, i said. i did not. i'm white, pal. WHITE. white people don't eat macaroni and cheese for thanksgiving.

well, she said, this white person does. (at which point, i think rudy may have been tempted to change seats with my friend's (caucasian) ex-husband who's probably going to be her (still caucasian) husband again. if they can work things out. which i'm pretty sure they can.)


from there, a discussion of macaroni and cheese and race relations unfolded and i was just as stunned to learn that white folks do eat macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving as i was to learn 20 years ago that african-americans do.


where have i been all my life???????


where has rudy's brother been?


shortly after the white breakfast/white people eat macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving thing happened, rudy and i visited his (yesssssss........african-american) brother. and rudy asked him how the macaroni and cheese on thanksiving was.

brother: the what?

rudy: the macaroni and cheese.

brother: blank stare.

rudy: didn't y'all have macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving?

brother: no.

me:  CRACKING UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

rudy (in disbelief): you didn't have macaroni and cheese on thanksgiving?????? did you have sweet potato pie?

brother: well, yeah. sure. we had sweet potato pie.



so, moral of the story is, have wings and potato skins for the game tonight.


GO BUCKS!

de-constructing Christmas dinner. and life.

i'm making homemade vegetable soup for Christams dinner.


my family is traditional. i grew up regular. in spite of that, we never had a traditional Christmas dinner. you never knew what to expect. except not to expect turkey. i don't think we ever had a turkey for Christmas. the argument always went like this: we just had turkey at thanksgiving, why do we want it again? i remember the time, and i was pretty little when i said this so this was very nervy of me, but i remember the time i said to my dad - you just had a beer, why do you want one again?

but, anyway. it was never turkey. maybe ham, but never turkey.

it was sometimes roast beef, sometimes a pork roast, one time it was rack of lamb (grossed everybody out), and one time it was some colonial southern menu that my mom found in better homes and gardens or something like that and it featured about 89 different courses of essentially unrecognizable stuff. i remember all of it being good but none of it familiar. the only thing familiar was the ham and beans and cornbread and i remember thinking, isn't that enough? why do we have all these other 88 things, too?

i also remember the year we had authentic swiss steak and the year we had authentic swiss fondue. not sure what side of the family the bias for the swiss comes from. it's not like we don't take sides or anything.

then there was the time we had crown roast of beef and that hideous yorkshire pudding. at least the reviews from the kids' table were that it was hideous. i have never tried yorkshire pudding since. nor, likely, will i.

my grandma curtis made pork chops one year and she stuffed them with, well, stuffing, but she also got creative (for that era) and added some garlic and fresh spinach to it. i'm not sure if that was the first time i had ever had stuffed pork chops but it's the time that stands out - in. spades. i was in love with those pork chops - and with my grandmother - and with the world. by the time i got up from the table that year, i had decided to learn how to cook.

last year, i made julia child's beef stew. it's a recipe that takes 3 days to make but it was worth every minute and painstaking effort. it's a wonder, when you think about it, how julia child ever got fat. because when did she have time to eat the stuff she made? all of her recipes take forever. makes the pony express look like the concorde.

which brings me (quickly - ha!) to this year.



i have come, increasingly and in all areas of my life, to understand that less really is more. (the only time less is not more is when it comes to love. and even then, i guess, sometimes it is.)

we don't need a ham tomorrow. we don't need folks in the kitchen for 6 hours. we don't need an elaborate centerpiece and we don't need so much china and crystal and all the rest that you gotta start setting the table the day before. what we need is.......soup.

the simplest kind of soup there is. some homemade bread. a few chunks of cheese. and peppermint ice cream and gingersnaps for dessert. done.


the baby Jesus from my nativity scene will be the non-elaborate centerpiece.

less is more.



He said so.

bananas about bacon

they make chicken and turkey bacon here at work sometimes for the kids and every time they do, it smells like heaven. which is cool, considering this is a catholic agency.


a colleague of mine hates the smell of bacon. or, at least, of this particular bacon. the first time she told me that i just sorta stood there and stared at her like she was from outer space. i mean, what other kind of reasonable response was there?

this colleague also hates coconut which, ok, i'll give her some slack there. although i happen to love coconut, i can see how she might not. coconut's a tricky thing - i get that. but, bacon???  

some of the other members of my team, myself included, hate bananas. the colleague who hates the smell of bacon (or at least of this bacon) just stands there and stares at us like we're from outer space when we talk about loving coconut but hating bananas.

she thinks we're bananas.



right this very minute i am thinking how i might combine bacon, coconut, and bananas into one single recipe and make it work. without taking out the bananas. which i hate.




my colleague's right......i am bananas.

a spoonful of sugar

i have always marvelled at how they come up with recipes. what amount of effort, experimentation, and patience there must be before they figure out that it's a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda, not a half.

which flavors go together and which don't. what can make the whole thing go wrong.

what can make the whole thing go right.



just like love.

synesthesia: it's what's for dinner.

i cook because the collision of tastes

in my mouth is there 

all. the.

time.


i can be talking to you (and am) one minute and

figuring out how raisins and blue cheese

might work on

steak the

next.



you can ask me a simple thing like

do i like

(fill-in-the-blank) and i'm

gone. my head is not so much in

a cookbook as it

is

the cookbook.


when i say my prayers

(which tastes like baked apples)

i ask Jesus (rhubarb)

to forgive (gravy),

remember (angel food cake),

and love (no flavor).




love, if you do it right,

doesn't need a flavor.



it has its

own.

why ice is cold

i was never very good in science. better in science than math but when you consider that i could add one plus one in several ways and get several answers, saying that i am better in science than math has no relevance whatsoever.



i had a science teacher once who all the kids thought of as "mean." when i came home from the first day of 9th grade and told my parents that sure enough, i got mrs. cook for science, they said that was great. "what's great about it," i said. "she's mean." they said that "mean" means she's a good teacher - that she would make me learn - that she wouldnt' let me get away with murder. and she didn't - let me get away with murder, that is. what she did let me get away with is burning myself half to smithereens and ruining one entire glorious teenaged summer when i could have been studying my own kind of science. if you get my drift.

what happened is, it was june. school had just let out. i had survived my 9th grade year with mean mrs. cook. i felt like celebrating. i had some friends over to spend the night.......

next morning, we threw on our bikinis first thing - the sun wasn't quite up but we were ready for the first ray. working on our tans was serious business.

while we waited for the sun to rise (in the east, by the way, which, ha ha, mrs. cook, i knew that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west way before i ever had you for a science teacher)..........while we waited for the sun to rise, we got hungry. someone said donuts. nobody was old enough to drive so we couldn't go to schuler's. my parents were health-and weight-conscious even back in that day, so there were no donuts in the house.

we decided to make some. from scratch.

and we did. we did. they turned out great. delicious. nobody ate more than one bite - because donuts are fattening - and the only thing more important than getting a suntan was getting a suntan on a thin body - but the donuts were great. looking back, i don't remember what we did with the leftovers. probably threw them away. but i hope not. my social studies teacher wouldn't have approved. and now that i'm grown and i recognize (notice i said "recognize," not "like")........now that i recognize that i am not the center of the universe and somebody, somewhere was starving and would have died, literally, for a single bite of a donut, well, i hope we didn't throw them away. i just hope we didn't.

but i digress. first time ever i have digressed.

so..........what happened next is where the not letting me get away with murder but ruining my summer comes in............

after we were done making the donuts, it was time to clean up. first thing we decided to do is take the boiling hot oil off the stove. good first thing.

second thing - not nearly as good - and before i tell you what it is, let me point out that mrs. cook never - never - never once said anything about what happens if you pour hot oil into a glass jar. never once.

so...........yeah. true story. i poured boiling hot oil into a big glass jar that i was holding in my left hand. and the whole thing exploded like your family at the table on thanksgiving, talkin' politics.

it burst into the air, my friends went running, and the grease went running, too. all over my hand, all over my chest, all over my stomach, and all over my legs. it didn't stop till it got to my ankles. and by then, i was in, literally, shock.



what happened next was worse than the burn itself. as i was lying in a semi-state of consciousness in the emergency room, i kept asking the nurses and the doctors and the thousands of other people who work in a hospital (and were probably eager to catch a glimpse of a teenager in a bikini) whether or not this meant that i wouldn't be leaving the next day, as planned, for mexico.

i was supposed to leave the next day, with my upcoming 10th grade spanish class (whose teacher was not mean), for mexico. we were going to be down there for 2 wonderful weeks, learning spanish. and learning about boys who speak spanish.

but, no, said the nurses and the doctors and the thousands of others........no. you are not going to mexico. you're not going anywhere. all summer. the closest you might get to going somewhere is getting off the couch to change the channel.



and so. the rest of that summer, i spent on my back. wrapped in gauze from my neck to my ankles. that hurt. when my girlfriends came back from mexico with the addresses of people named jose and pedro and raul, that really hurt.



but the point of this whole story is mrs. cook and how, even though she really didn't turn out to be mean (she actually ended up being one of my favorite teachers of all time), how she never bothered - not once -  to teach us not to make donuts.


she also never bothered to teach us why ice is cold.

let it frickin snow/not snow

politics and religion? come on. pieces of cake compared to discussing snow.


no surprise, but my facebook and twitter pages today are full of people having a full-on, vitriolic snowball fight. some of those snowballs sound as though they have rocks buried inside. rocks and maybe worse.

of all the things that separate us, i think weather is the salient one. it beats gender, beats income, beats education, beats do you have ham or turkey on Christmas.

some may like it hot and some may like it cold but nobody wants the other one to have what they like. weather beats every Christian principle there is, every time.



i did something after work that i hope will help bridge the divide. i stopped at the store and bought some potato salad from the deli. then i picked up some ground beef, some hamburger buns, and a quart of ice cream. schlepped the whole thing over to my neighbor who loves ohio in july and who i knew would be in a bag - and he was (is) - over today's snowfall. i handed him the food and said, here, have a summer picnic indoors. 


the look on his face when i handed him the stuff restored my belief in humanity's ability to get along.

how food will save the world

the fact that people don't eat cheese and crackers at cocktail hour anymore isn't the worst thing in the world. but it's close.

people should have cocktail hour and it should include cheese and crackers. to be followed by a dinner of steak, salad, and baked potato. when was the last time you had cheese and crackers at cocktail time followed by a dinner of steak, salad, and baked potato? see what i mean? that's what's wrong with the world.

alternatively, you can have mixed nuts and a beer or herring in sour cream with a nice glass of wine. if you absolutely must abstain from alcohol, then a coke is permissible. followed by pretty much anything you want - which, i admit, is one advantage to abstaining from alcohol.

if you don't feel like cooking you're allowed to go out to eat but ladies, put on a dress and gentlemen, wear a sports coat. act like you've got some sense. and go to a "supper club." if you can't find a "supper club" anywhere, build one. act like you've got some initiative.

after dinner, have coffee. if you're mormon, convert. coffee in a nice little demitasse cup and a very thin slice of plain....traditional......regular cheesecake. what, were you raised in a barn????

and on monday night, eat meatloaf.

the future of the world depends on it.

any way you dice it

a complete list of every kind of pasta i have ever had, to the best of my memory which, granted, is shot:

• spaghetti
• bigoli
• capellini
• capellini d'angelo (angel hair)
• fusilli
• pellizoni
• pici
• vermicelli
• ziti
• zitoni
• bavettine
• fettuccine
• lasagna
• linguine
• mafalde
• pappardelle
• scialatelli
• tagliatelle
• taglierini
• cannelloni
• cavatappi
• ditalini
• fagiolini
• garganelli
• gemelli
• macaroni
• manicotti
• marziani
• mostaccioli
• penne
• penne rigate
• penne zita
• rigatoncini
• rigatoni
• rotini
• tortiglioni
• campanelle
• cavatelli
• conchiglie
• conchiglioni
• farfalle
• fiori
• gigli
• orecchiette
• pipe
• radiatori
• rotelle
• rotini
• strozzapreti
• anelli
• orzo
• pearl pasta
• stortini
• mezzelune
• pierogi
• ravioli
• tortellini
• tortelloni
• gnocchi 
• and spaetzle.

and wouldn't you know.....


i like spaghetti the best.


:)

eating

it's gotten so complicated.


it used to be, you ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, period. and ok, so maybe that wasn't the best way to do it but at least it was easy to remember. not to mention, it tasted good.

what you ate for breakfast was bacon and eggs, what you ate for lunch was a sandwich, and what you ate for dinner was meatloaf. in between all that eating, you lived you life. and living your life didn't include one big guilt trip kavetching about:

• gluten vs. non-gluten
• organic vs. pesticide
• soy vs. everything (including soy vs. soy!)
• fruits and vegetables, fruits and vegetables, fruits and vegetables!!!!!!
• vegetarian vs. regular vs. vegan vs. anorexia
• kroger vs. farmer's market
• wild-caught vs. who-even-thinks-about-where-it's-caught
• free range vs. all hemmed in
• red meat! BOO, red meat!
• processed vs. even-though-everyone-is-busier-than-ever,-make-it-yourself
• frequent snacks vs. 3 squares. and the snacks can't be anything fun.
• non-dairy vs. evil dairy
• local vs. shipped in. try eating local oranges in ohio. 
• fair trade vs. is it really fair trade or are we all being duped?
• fruits and vegetables, fruits and vegetables, fruits and vegetables!!!!!!
• eggs are bad vs. eggs aren't as bad as we thought
• caffeine is bad vs. caffeine isn't as bad as we thought
• vs. oh, yes, caffeine is as bad as we thought!
• vs., no it's not.
• peanut allergy, peanut allergy, peanut allergy!
• michelle obama turning every school kid's dream upside down

even the water's not safe.

because the government cares about you, that's why

so, by now, we all know that the obama administration doesn't want us to have a hamburger tomorrow. unless it's made out of turkey. or chicken. which, if you have that, isn't a hamburger. 

the obama administration also doesn't want us to have a coke. or a sprite. and, God forbid (God is my choice of words,of course)....God forbid, not a mountain dew. what the obama administration wants you to have tomorrow is water. you're allowed to float a piece of fruit - of your choice- (whoa!!!! your choice!!!!)in it, but it must. be. water.

as for dessert, the kabosh has been putteth upon. we're allowed to have fruit. but that. is. it. nothing else.



now, granted......there's no law (yet) that says we can't eat these hideous things but i can't help but hear a certain set of very familiar words just ringing and ringing and ringing in my ears.......

"slippery slope."

(or is it, "it's my body!" that i'm hearing?)



i'll have mine with lettuce and tomato, heinz 57 and french fried potatoes. (white bun, too.) 


happy fourth, y'all. :)

how to inhale

i like to cook fancy and i like to cook down home and lemme tell you somethin' - down home smells better. 

waaaaaaaay better.



right now, i'm makin' pork chops and beef stew. and later on, ima make lasagna and a ham. and let's just put it this way......i'm not gonna need the lasagna or the ham to make it smell good in here.

fancy food that you stack vertically on a plate drizzled with balsamic something or other sure does look good. and it tastes fabulous. but when was the last time you walked into somebody's house and said, "mmmmmmmmm! smells like balsamic something or other drizzled on a plate!" 

i love a good dover sole with clarified butter and lemon reduction. it looks good and it tastes like someone cooked it in heaven. but, from a smell standpoint............meh.

i remember once when i made cream of chestnut soup laced with sherry. and the time i made chilled melon soup with champagne. newsflash: neither chestnuts nor champagne smell all that good. especially compared to a burger.

(second newsflash: i appear to like soup.)

(third newsflash: i appear to like alcohol.)


speaking of soup, have you ever walked into an ohio house on a cold autumn night and smelled homemade chili?????



and to think that some of you live in florida.

no, not ANY way you slice it.

i like to cook but i am not "a cook." if i were "a cook" i would cut up celery like this: chopchopchop. 

what i do instead is, i grab pretty much the first knife in the block and start cutting - not chopping. and i cut slow. like this: cut........cut........cut........

the reason i don't grab the big knife and chopchopchop is that i don't know how. i mean, i know how to grab a big knife (don't piss me off!) but i don't know how to cutfastlikethis: chopchopchop.

i have tried to chopchopchop but i just don't have the knack. what i "lack in knack" i make up for in (besides poetry).....appreciation.


i appreciate the fibers in the celery. sometimes, i cut slow enough to count each one. dinner might be late, but i live alone, so who cares.

i examine the garlic skin. hold it up to the light. i've found that the more you can see through the skin, the more garlicky the garlic is. bet you didn't know that, you chopchopchoppers.

peppers are fun to cut. especially the orange ones. maybe just because i like orange.

onions? well, sigh. onions are a pain in the ass, period. the best way to cut onions is to use a machine. that's just the plain, God's honest truth.


i realize that "real cooks" - the ones who chopchopchop and use all the right utensils and wear white coats - end up with way better meals than i do. but i am not aiming for 5 stars. or even 1.

what i'm aiming for is a good enough meal that i had the good enough common sense not to rush through before it even was a meal.


not to mention the pleasure of writing about it the next day.

:)

you CAN still ask a question on jeopardy!, can't you?

i miss the days when you could ask a question or say, "i don't know" to somebody else's and someone didn't immediately send you a link answering it. 

i miss the speculation surrounding a question: "well, it could be because of...." or "maybe (this) or maybe (that)," and my favorite - "huh. i don't know."


nobody doesn't know anymore. used to be, someone would say, "is it really true that a bunch of catholic priests tried to figure out once how many angels you can fit on top of a pin," and somebody else would say, "whaaaaat????" and a third person would say, "yeah......that sorta sounds familiar. i think it was the pope, though. i think some pope somewhere along the line tried to figure that out," and the next guy says, "it was the cardinals. the college of cardinals or whatever they call it..........why do they call themselves cardinals, anyway?"

you used to be able to have a conversation like that and nobody had the final answer. y'all just shrugged, said, "oh, well," and went out and had a burger and fries.


nowadays, though, nothing's left to the imagination. nothing's left to discuss. ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, here's your digital answer. 

i hate that.


wonder how a burger and fries came to be such a popular combination in the u.s.?


wonder how many of 'em you could fit on a pin?

why it's better when olives still have the pit in

olives without the pits in 'em make me happy. but.......they shouldn't.


olives with the pits still in 'em force us - or should force us (i don't know about some of you gluttons) - to slow down. olives with the pits in 'em mean you can take more time to taste the olive! who knew?!

that's why God put thorns on rose bushes - to slow your sorry ass down.

it's also why God made winter. it takes time to count the snowflakes. hell, it takes time just to walk in the winter!



it might sound strange, but i am going to spend this winter storm warning day eating olives.

i need to spend my whole life eating them.


so do you.

where's that in the (family) Bible?

(BOW - Being Offended Warning)


one thing that's not in the Bible - and it's an important thing - is that "everything important is in the Bible" isn't in the Bible.


Catholics (with a capital "C") do not subscribe to "sola scriptura," which roughly means, if it's not in the Bible, it doesn't count. 

Catholics think that tradition counts, too. Catholics think that what was passed down orally, before we ever even had such a thing called "the Bible," counts for a lot. and we honor it. i know that makes some of you mad. it probably even makes some of you want to pray that misguided Catholics who think that just because it isn't in the Bible doesn't mean it doesn't count won't go to hell. (even though it doesn't say in the Bible to pray for misguided Catholics who think that just because it isn't in the Bible doesn't mean it doesn't count or else they'll go to hell.)


i had a friend ask me the other day for my favorite recipe from my childhood. i asked her why she wanted that. 

well, she said, it's an important part of you, isn't it? and i said, well, yeah, i guess it is. and she said, well, i think favorite recipes from childhoods are an important part of everybody's life. i don't think i can really understand people till i know what recipe brings happy tears to their eyes.

well, i said, i've never thought about it like that before. well, she said, can i have it? well, i don't have it written down, i said. well, she said, how many other important things from your childhood don't you have written down? 

well, i said............ 



pretty much all of 'em.

(and i like to write!)




i'm not necessarily trying to convince those of you who do subscribe to sola scriptura to stop subscribing to sola scriptura.




but i would like to have your favorite recipe. 

:)





   

fish on friday!!!!

vatican II didn't say don't eat fish (or other meatless foods) on friday, they said you don't have to. why they said that and didn't think everyone wouldn't is beyond me.


personally, i like rules. i like rules like i like guardrails. they keep me in.

guardrails keep me in, play pens keep them in, and only having but so much money should keep all of us in (but it doesn't).

being kept "in," in (ha!) my opinion, is a good thing. what's wrong with the world is, they let things out.


letting things out is bad. letting out the waist in your pants is bad. letting out your anger on everybody else is bad. letting out God in schools is bad.

(the only time letting something out isn't bad is when they let you out in traffic. and you can count on one hand how many times that happens. because there isn't a rule that says they have to.)



fish on friday was good. it kept your sorry ass a little less sorry. i have a friend who has never eaten meat on friday in his life. even as a baby, they fed him noodles or cheese or, as he got a bit older, fish. the rule about fish on friday is as much a part of him as his own breathing is. when he learned that vatican II said you don't have to anymore, he choked. true story.



we don't need to get rid of the rules - we need to get rid of the boo-hooin' about 'em.



give yourself the heimlich maneuver.