PORK ROAST: Pigs' revenge on gullible mankind
First of all just let me say
My bad experience with my wife's pork roast is not a slam against my wife, Pam. She is an excellent cook and homemaker. And for me to insinuate to you that my near-tragic pork roast experience was her fault would be low of me to do and show you that I am nothing less than a jerk.
The root (no pun intended) of the problem
is pigs. Yes, the all-American animal that has been so good to give numerous generations of its breed to keep us Americans fed as well as the free world.
You would think that pigs are all loveable, kind, playful and willing to be slaughtered without any repercussions. But that only shows just how gullible we, the members of mankind really are.
It's a far-reaching conspiracy that I have recently uncovered by accident. And when CNN, Fox News, and all of the reliable news networks get wind of this, "I" am going to be a household word. I am not a braggart. Just giving you a friendly warning.
Let's do a quick review on the many ways a pig feeds us:
- Pork Roast
- Pork Loin
- Pork Shoulder
- Pork Chops
- Pork Rinds
- Pigs' Tails (for some)
- Pigs' Feet (for some)
- Barbecue Whole Hog
Now do you see just how the so-called friend of humanity, the pig, has us hooked on good food?
Let this be a warning to you
I am not a racist or bigot. I love all types of people and animals. Pigs, if you didn't know, have two groups: 1. the lowly pig who lets us kill him and his kin for tasty meals and picnics and 2. The pig shown above commonly known as a wild hog. He is severely-dangerous and has a short temper. If you, men or women, think you are brave enough to track one of these monsters, you had better bring your "A game," for you won't find a meaner, dangerous, and probably the shrewdest animal on four hooves. Do your research. Find out how to approach and kill this animal for he means business. He is out to get you, so be forewarned.
Well, now for the gory details
On the Sunday before St. Patrick's Day, I sat down after church to dine on my wife's delicious pork roast that she had slow-cooked overnight the night before. I admit it. I let the thoughts of this tasty dish pass through my mind during our worship service and prayed that God would understand.
After church our grandkids, Alexis, Annabeth, and Gabriel, who are not kids anymore, but young adults, dug into the roast--devouring the dish like a pack of ravenous wolves and frankly, I was doing my best to keep up with them. Pam was nibbling her portion of pork roast and enjoying how much we loved her cooking.
But that night, things changed. I mean changed so much that I didn't sleep a wink the entire night. I tossed and turned, sweated, moaned in pain at my gall bladder aching as a reaction to the pork roast. And I did myself some praying too. I promised God that if He wouid let me live through the night, I would swear-off pork roasts.
Monday, St. Patrick's Day, I arose at 11 a.m. with fever, sweating and feeling as if a train had hit me while I was crossing a railroad track. All I wanted to do was sit in my recliner and not move.
I ask you. Have you ever been that sick?
Pam, in her saintly-personality, (and this is not a joke), ran to town and socked-up on ginge ale, Seven-Up and other drinks that my stomach could tolerate.
By Tuesday morning I was much better and much-wiser about my eating ahd what I eat.
Pam told me later in the day that it was not what I eat, but how much. I had consumed three pork roast sandwiches at lunch and at supper, about three more.
The amount combined with the greasy pork roast combined to make me say this to God:
"Father, I promise you, that if you get me through this, I will never "pig out " anymore."
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