The unthinkable has occurred. Camera Girl has joined the resistance. Somehow, she’s discovered the 4B Movement. I don’t know how it happened. I keep her inside a hermetic bubble, into which no outside influence is allowed. Like a Svengali I mold her every thought and gaslight her entire notion of what’s going on in the world. But somehow, it’s happened. She has declared herself part of the 4B; No barbecue, burger, brisket or bologna. And as a further sign of her radicalized state of mind she’s added another 4B’s; no breakfast, bagel. bialy or bacon. Shades of Lysistrata!
A complete food strike. It’s diabolical. And there’s nothing I can do. I don’t know how to buy or cook food. I’m not even sure what I currently eat. The dishes she makes for me are complex and confusing. If left to my own devices I’ll probably wander through the supermarket buying the easily identifiable items like bananas and seltzer. It looks pretty bleak for me. I tried to placate her. I told her I’d stop watching YouTube videos of Kamala voters screaming and crying. I told her I’d let her watch NCIS and other girly soap operas. But she just ignored me. Her tactic is to eat her meals before I get up in the morning. When I get up at 10:30 am I can still smell the coffee and bagels wafting around the dining room but all that’s left is an empty coffee mug and some everything-bagel crumbs on a plate in the sink.
I can’t figure out where she’s hiding the food. I suspect it might be in the kitchen cabinets but because of the illogical way she arranges things I’ve never been able to find anything but trash bags and window cleaner in those places, so what’s the use. In desperation I’ve been sneaking out to the edge of the swamp looking for the crumbs and crusts that Camera Girl leaves at the edge of the water for Moe the Crow. I’ll give him this, he puts up a pretty stiff fight for his food. But I’m just too strong for him. I will have to get there a little earlier though. The bread gets very soggy from the ground water almost immediately.
I’m thinking of getting some outside help. I’m going to write a letter to President-elect Trump and see if he has any advice for me. I mean he’s always fighting with “nasty women” and he’s managed pretty well for himself. Well, he did get sued by that harpy who claims he raped her in Bloomingdales. And he is on his third marriage. And he did have that Million-Woman March against him back in 2017. But probably all of those experiences have made him wiser about women and anyway I feel he owes me after I stuck up for him with Camera Girl and all the other women who over the years have argued with me about what a terrible man he is. Surely that wisdom can do me some good in my present predicament. The “art of the deal” must have a chapter on food strikes.
Well, if all else fails. I will fall back on what every man has as his birthright; the male brain. As Shakespeare very beautifully expressed it in Hamlet, “What a piece of work is a man, How noble in reason.” That’s right, how noble in reason. We are the thinking animal and we can think our way out of any crisis. I will buy food myself and by trial and error I will figure out how to cook it. I can write the equations for the heat transfer of an electrical resistance stove top. I can figure out the amount of time it takes for a quart of water to reach its boiling point at a particular power setting. I know how the proteins in animal muscle become denatured at high temperature. Fire is the invention of some male ancestor of my species and I can master its application to any technology. As Prometheus is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!
Maybe if I tell her how nice her hair looks lately, she’ll make me some coffee and a pumpernickel bagel. It couldn’t hurt.
I love butternut squash soup.
Camera Girl makes a butternut squash-chicken soup that I think is amazing.
But will she ever let you taste it again?
Bacon, eggs, potatoes, more bacon, ham, ham steak, fresh caught bass, trout, and perch. VENISON! (It IS deer season) C’mon, Man fall back on your ancestors’ survival skills! For Men, life should be one long tour at Deer Camp!
https://youtu.be/tSEBVUxwB9k
Then It’s Ice Fishing season!
https://youtu.be/lsuzbNHBg5c
They quit having ice fishing season down here about 50,000 years ago.
I went ice fishing once with a friend. I think it’s an excuse to drink whiskey.
You need an excuse?
I guess they do. It must be a way of getting away from the wife and kids and drink.
I’ve made considerable progress today. I found the bread. She’s devilishly clever and hid it in a box on top of the refrigerator. And after a long search I found the peanut butter. I’m afraid it might be the peanut butter that she uses for the mouse traps in the garage. But beggars can’t be choosers. I still haven’t found the cutlery so I had to spread the peanut butter on the bread with my fingers. But that’s fine. My next step will be to find where she has the dishwashing soap. I can use one of my undershirts as… Read more »
I’m not fond of squash, except pumpkin. However I could cook quite well when I married. Still do today. Mom was a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu and I learned by watching her and both my grandmothers cook. My kids and grandson love my chocolate and pumpkin pies this time of year. I bake as well as cook. My late wife, however, had an arcane method of storage of consumables. She left snacks easy to find but ingredients were hidden or placed by seeming random. That’s how she maintained control. She loved when I cooked but she had to gather… Read more »
Yes, a woman’s kitchen organizational method seems like plain chaos to a man. I’ve also accused Camera Girl of enjoying the sound of clanging pots just for the shock value. She is a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. I like to go in there and watch her at work but I make her nervous and she claims I’m in the way.