I forgot today was Monday. Isn’t that horrible? Okay, it’s not that bad, but I didn’t think I had anything pressing to do today, except of course keep on a-writin’ my yet-to-be-named second book, but then I said to myself, “Dave, get yourself together. Es lunes. (It’s Monday for those of you who don’t hablar espanol)” And then I went on, “Get to your mailbag, man. Get to your mailbag before the whole thing gets overrun with wonderful tidbits, and can you can never answer them all in a timely manner…” Of course I went on from there, but let’s just leave it at that, shall we? I’m runnin’ this joint, so we shall.
What is your favorite food?
Camille Somewhere, In-The-World
I have made an assumption here, and I’m hoping it doesn’t come back to bite me, as assumptions seem to have a tendency to do. You see, Camille did not tell me where she’s from, and instead of shooting her back an email like any normal person, I went all lazy and said, I’m just going to assume that Camille is an earthling. Camille, if you’re out there reading this, and I’m sure you are, I’m sorry if you are not in fact earth-bound, and I have offended your intergalactic sensibilities. And might I add, if you are in fact an alien from so far off world, what a beautifully earthy name you have?
What is my favorite food? Well, I assume (there are I go again. The assumptions are running rampant today!)—I assume you mean what isn’t my favorite food. I’m gonna answer that one. I feel that answering the assumed question is often less helpful, but at the same time more entertaining. And who wants a question answered? If someone were to give me the option to know…I don’t know, let’s say, how exactly the JFK assassination went down, or if I’d like to be entertained, I’m going with clowns and magicians. Hold off on the facts, I just want to have fun.
So, back to the question (assumed question) at hand. What is not my favorite food? Camille, I’m gonna have to go with cow tongue. I struggle to even classify this as a food, but people do indeed eat it. I did in fact. And I don’t wish to repeat the traumatic event. Any liver-haters out there? Of course there are. Think liver, but squishier. If you ever do eat, just be happy you didn’t get the piece that was connected to the throat, where squishy meat meets tough gristle. If you did in fact get the throat piece. Good luck, my friend.
Happy eating. This is your Monday Mailbag!