Last time, as you may recall (see Recipe Madness), I mentioned how my friend Margie and I are complete and total Bacon Whores; we believe everything is better with bacon.
(Margie: "Finally I know what to put on my tombstone--'Bacon Whore.' What better way to sum up my life?")
Then I posted about Bacon Brittle aka Bacon Toffee and wondered where the hell I've been that I'd never heard of such a thing.
Well, tonight we're going deeper into the weirdness.
Some of you may know I'm a big ol' fan of Warren Ellis, author of such little excursions into madness as Crooked Little Vein and Transmetropolitan. He's something of a 'Netslut as well, posting frequently on LiveJournal, MySpace, and his own personal websites, so, since I'm a complete geek, I check 'em all daily looking for interesting informational tidbits and singularly cool or obscene quotes to steal and claim as my own. Wednesday he linked to this saying,
"A few of my friend (sic) will know what I mean when I say that this may be a baconpunk object."
"Baconpunk"? WTF...?
"This" is Mo's Bacon Bar, "applewood smoked bacon, alder wood smoked salt, deep milk chocolate." $7.00 for 3 oz. (!) and currently out of stock, the little teases, but, oh yeah, baby, if anything is Baconpunk this is it!
And Margie and I will have matching tombstones.
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1 comment:
Baconwhore, yes I am. And since when we last spoke I was sure my demise would be the result, some way or another, of bacon, (such as arterial blockage, weight gain, choking on saliva while thinking about bacon, or simply acute muscle atrophy from just sitting staring at bacon), I thought what an appropriate epitaph. Now, without a doubt, I will actually die from baconpunk overdose. Oh, to actually know the cause of your own death in advance - the freedom I now know is amazing. No more wondering, waiting for some drunken driver, some weird chain saw accident, or flying monkey indident to surprise me. Yes - baconpunk, oh sweet baconpunk.
Margie - BaconWhore Forevermore....
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