links, no patties, please

I suspected Beagles's prior post was tongue in cheek, and his current one also, but this one seems more, what's the word. out of control, like when you see an old guy in a movie and he starts complaining about something and that reminds him of something else that pisses him off more, which reminds him of something else that pisses him even more and so on and so on and in the end he is like Yosemite Sam hopping up and down and shooting off his pistols.  I think he ought to take his, well I assume a CD player, but perhaps he is holding onto his vinyl and his 8 tracks because they are trying to take them away, out to his deer blind and play a bunch of Emmylou Harris, and Lucinda Williams, and Nanci Griffith and chillax.  Used to be a man could just relax, but they have taken that away from us in our golden years and now we have to chillax.

I don't think he has to worry about scaring off Bambi because his silence on the matter makes me think that he has not slain a deer in years.

Seems to me that back in the day of Hamburger Helper (who made that delicious beef Stroganoff that now is sadly no longer seen (Hint, hint Old Dog, what a project in your spiffy new culinary castle to reverse engineer HH beef Stroganoff)), there was some kind of soy hamburger being advertised.  Actually it was real hamburger mixed with soy, called something like HPV beef.  It was cheaper than regular hamburger, but it wasn't very good.

Not that I am a big fan of fake meat but red meat eaters tend to die of strokes and heart attacks earlier than their tofu scarfing brothers.  And it turns out that bovine belches are worse than their farts.  It's pretty elementary science.  Didn't Beagles take Ms Tichy's biology class at old Gage Park High, and follow that up with Old Bastard Fulton's chemistry and Doc Small's physics?

Pork bellies just sounds funny.  Whenever they did some comedy skit on commodities they used the term.  A little internet research reveals that they stopped trading in them because pork was being eaten so quickly that it went right from the hog onto the dinner plate so there was no need to store it and hence nothing to speculate on.

I'm surprised that the sweet aroma of bacon no longer lingers in Beagles's kitchen.  Could it be that Mrs Beagles noting how Mr Beagles gets into these rants has decided to cut out his bacon so as to give his blood more open arteries to course through?  Bacon is fine, but I don't really understand the current bacon mania.  I prefer sausage, links, no patties please.

Beagles read something in the papers about some investigation.  You know what, the Mueller Report came out and within a day Beagles knew what it said and what it meant because he read the reports of some commentators.  Meanwhile the entire report is readily available at a reasonable price at let's see, Purple Tree Books and Coffee on Main Street, which I have to admit looks a little hippie for Beagles, but there is always the Wal Mart.

Maybe Beagles ought to read more.  Maybe he ought to take the inexpensive well-written report and a science book, which like the song, he don't know much about, into the blind along with his Emmy, Lucinda, and Nanci 8-tracks and just, you know, chillax so that that vein in the middle of his forehead doesn't pulse like a disco beat and the hypothetical wife might slip a few strips of bacon onto his plate.

Myself  I'll have the sausage, links, no patties please.  And not too much, I want to save room for that beef Stroganoff at Old Dog's Excellent Eatery.


PS have we discussed Petoskey rocks before?