Politics

Cole slaw is the side dish of the South, one; and mayonnaise is the glue that holds my people together.  If we neglect to ingest something with mayonnaise binding each and every day we are liable to, and very often do, come unglued.  This is a self-evident fact that holds for my people both individually and as a culture.  When you venture into this area of the world, you will find I am not just whistling Dixie.

I have studied the cole slaw situation closely for a lifetime and may be one of the world’s leading experts on same.  People in the former CSA are extremely jealous of their states’ rights re: the matter of smokemeat, each believing their method to be the last word on the subject.  Much of this barbeque boostering is nothing but bluster without discussion of its indivisible complement and/or topping, the abovementioned unsung cole slaw.  But that’s just one thing.

On Groundhog Day 1972, I think Punxsutawney Phil saw Nixon’s shadow. I know I did. It was the day of the draft lottery, and I didn’t want to win. Not when the prize was Vietnam.

One of my college roommates woke me up by banging a ladle against a frying pan next to my ear.

“Get up”, he said. “You’re number five.”

Number five. I needed comfort food.