Tacos, Street Meat and Socrates--What is the connection?

I am back. Sorry, I did not post yesterday, but it was just one of those things. I did see something that set me off this weekend, though. I was watching a commercial on television (I am not sure what was the bigger "mistake" watching television or actually watching the commercial). It was for Old El Paso Taco Shells. They have flattened the bottoms of the shells, making it easier to stuff the tacos. What a great idea, I thought.

Then reality hit. I hate fucking tacos! You have to put a tarp down when ever you eat those things. You bite them and the shell shatters, sending ground meat (I cannot say for sure what kind of meat it is, though), lettuce and crap falling to the floor. If you are unlucky, that crap hits your pants on the way down (Gravity is a bitch!) leaving a stain. Not just a stain, but a taco stinking stain. I am not sure if it is the cumin used, but it is that earthy, B.O. stink of a stain.

That is something nobody needs. Whose idea was this taco? There's a winner idea. Give me a hand held food that explodes and crumbles when you bite into it! The tacos are cheap but the dry cleaning bills are getting to be rather expensive. Fuck Taco Bell! Fuck them to hell!

Of course, there is one type of taco of which I am fond. The pink taco, which I have never had crumble when I ate. Explode, yes, but never crumble. Too much information? Well, at least I am not posting the details of the stomach flu.

I could say the same thing about street meat or street hot dogs. Of course, I cannot say that I was ever sober when eating them. They are the vestiges of the drunk and/or high guy who is feeling peckish. I load up the sauerkraut, mustard, hot peppers and onions (I figure that if I am eating this I have given up the hope of meeting some female companionship this night, so I do not care if my breath stinks. Besides, it just may mask the smell of the booze.) I take a bite and can only watch as the toppings fall out and down.

It is not pleasant watching mustard laced sauerkraut, hot peppers and chopped onions land on your shoes, or in my case, boots. Fuck that! Then I am left to wonder how I got the mustard stain on the bottom of my pants and why I have cabbage in my pant cuffs. Can you see Socrates wondering about that? I cannot.

There, I have done it. I have opened up the delusion where I compare myself to Socrates for all to see. The only real problem is that it may be an apt comparison. Of course, I am neither Greek nor dead. I can say with some confidence that at one point I will reach one of those states. I am not sure how I will be able to convince my friends and family that I am Greek, though.

I am done for today. Enjoy and ciao!