Twists and Turns

Hi.

I like words like curmudgeon, persnickety, sassafras, sarsaparilla, hasenpfeffer, and parasol. In fact, I am hoping for a resurgence of these words into the daily lexicon. I especially hope that we go back to calling root beer sarsaparilla. Mmm sarsaparilla.

And, why not offer marinated rabbit at restaurants? That way we could say in a pretentious tone to no one in particular, "I hope the hasenpfeffer isn't coma-inducing tonight," then turning to our dinner party quip, "I don't remember the last time I had decent hasenpfeffer!" But, no one in this post modern world cares to eat rabbit. And, when no one eats rabbit, no one even has the opportunity to say hasenpfeffer, at least not in any meaningful way. The day we, as a society, are too good to eat rabbits is the day that the rabbits have won. As a Schmelta High alumni, I am a little bit happy about rabbits winning, but as a human carnivore I am disgusted with us as a species. Sure, we don't mind harvesting rabbit fur for our precious sweaters, feet for our precious luck, ears for our precious ancient television sets, and turds for our precious gardens, but heaven forbid we actually eat the poor creature. Come on people, it actually does both look and taste like chicken--minus the gizzard, of course.

Maybe I'm being a persnickety old curmudgeon, but I won't be satisfied until I can sit in the great outdoors, with the smell of sassafras wafting from the laurels (both plants and Mormon teen-aged girls) protected from the harsh rays of the sun only by a parasol and good sense, with a cool sarsaparilla and a steaming plate of harsenpfeffer from KFR (it's not an obvious joke, think Kentucky Fried...). Until then, I will continue this life's sojourn as a cantankerous old coot!

Good day, madam--I said good day!