Recently, Dave Good made the questionable decision of asking his Facebook friends for blog topics and promised to write 5 of at least 500 words. However, like all Angelenos he has a secret agenda. Which is to demonstrate enough writing proficiency to get a job doing it and /or progress ideas from the page to more complex collaborative performance concepts. He is also very worried that his constant micro works as an excellent status updater on the aforementioned Facebook are ultimately stunting his creative growth. Anyways, a guy he went to high school with named Nick offered “Bacon”. Dave has decided to start with that over various requests to explain complex patterns of human behavior because bacon requires way less research. Dave Good is very good at research but he also has severe ADD and will thwart complex administrative tasks at almost all costs. Unless of course someone is paying him to do said research because after all money does have a special way of helping him focus. Anyone in politics or poker knows exactly what he is talking about. The following is a true story about a nature adventure outside of Minneapolis somewhere near the Wisconsin border.
Ok let me just jump right in here I don’t want to waste your time with superfluous details.
Obviously when you go camping with 5-10 lady arts administrators from Minnesota bacon is going to a resonant part of the experience. I would love to tell you what happened the night before the bacon but all I really remember was being so drunk I fell backwards over a cooler and that we all thought it was super funny. Regardless, the next day we crawled out of our respective tents and marveled at the “Sexy Bacon Minx” as she prepared our posh and decadent breakfast. The process was expert and efficient and we delighted in the smoky salty magic of sliced pig belly. I’m not sure how many times each of us said, “I guess I’ll have one more” but I do know those numbers were statistically significant. It was a brunch worthy of our star studded celebration and we finished far less hungover and more impressed with ourselves than we previously thought possible. The pile of greasy paper towels left behind looked like the first draft of a bacon addict’s hand written thesis about bacon. I remember reveling in its scope and size. However our morning of the divine and sublime swine did not last until the end of time. Not long after coming to terms with our high stacked masterpiece of grease and paper, someone who will remain unnamed, decided to toss that epic stack of paper towels towards the still burning morning fire.
The towels landed dead center. After a brief pause, they quickly wilted and emitted what can only be described as the noise humans make when they take a deep breath to hold back tears. Then a faint centered circle formed and disintegrated into a gray void. And a black cylinder of smoke burst towards the sky.
Let me write this again.
A black… nearly opaque… absolute darkness… cylinder burst forth like a mystical demon prison unleashed toward a terrified and unready sky. It was a sight I will not soon forget. How many pigs worth of bacon had we consumed??? I cannot say but I discerned the tortured faces of at least 4 while their anguished spirits plumed from the freshly revealed heart of darkness. I do know we were all suddenly taken aback and at least one of us mentioned The Smoke Monster from Lost. (a once popular “Television Show” for those of you reading this in the distant future). After an anguishing amount of seconds the ultra-dark column of pig death had vanished and we were all left to face the cosmic implications of the experience beside the smelly remnants of the now dying fire.
Perhaps the strong constitution of the Minnesota Arts Administrator had already processed the moral ambiguity of bacon and I was the only one so intensely affected. Admittedly, I’m known to be quite sensitive. However, my relationship with bacon was forever changed. I’ve put it in the “special” category of food and only eat it during family holidays. Or if I have been served bacon while visiting a friend. Or when I’m in a burger joint and I can get grass fed beef with Maytag Blue Cheese and fried onion strings and local mushrooms and the bun has that perfect snap what am I going to do not add a little pig tummy to make it the tastiest thing in the known universe? I’m not a psychopath. I have feelings and big dreams and so do pigs perhaps we all know they are as smart as dogs. But no one ever rescues them because they aren’t cute! We so often confuse animal empathy for a selfish obsession with cuteness it drives me nuts! I’ve seen so many pretentious “animal lovers” crush bacon into lines and snort it I can’t even deal anymore! Hypocrisy is ubiquitous!
I’m getting off topic.
The point is I’m certainly not one of those people so I now only eat bacon when it looks really good and I’m too drunk to care or perhaps when it’s on sale and I’ve had a bad day and I know the ultimate tortured animal soul food drug will make it all o.k. again.
It is, after all, quite flavorful.
Love,
Dave Good (conscious eater)
The Dave Good Show 