Food…Glorious Food

Just got back from the store to pick up a dessert for a picnic at work tomorrow. I don’t make it to the grocery store very often because, well, I don’t eat much. Most of my nutrition comes through a small portal that goes into my stomach and my meals come out of a can. That’s not not to say I never eat orally. I can eat a lot of things if they are pureed properly. I’m a Wisconsin boy so cheese occupies a special place in my heart, although I’m one of those left-wing types that likes brie and its ilk. Pringles potato chips and Junior Mints are two of my preferred junk foods. When I was first put on the ventilator, doctors told me I couldn’t eat anymore because my swallow had never been that great and it got worse when I got sick with pneumonia. But as the years went by, I learned which foods I could eat safely. Eating also became less important to me. It’s not uncommon for me to go weeks without eating something orally.
The recent suicide of David Kelly seems terribly bizarre, at least on this side of the Atlantic. I’m not a big conspiracy theorist, but I can’t stop wondering if there’s more to the story of his death. Anyone with a pulse and access to the Internet knew months ago that the proffered justifications for the Iraqi war were flimsier than Michael Jackson’s facial structure. And now that the American press is finally pulling its collective head out of its collective arse, the Bushies start getting desperate and resort to the basest forms of recrimination, like this sad attempt to discredit an ABC journalist just because he’s gay. I’m starting to smell blood in the political waters and 2004 can’t come soon enough me.
Screw all this madness. Let’s go to Ibiza. I’ve never been there. The music sounds cool and the women look hot. Who wants to accompany me?