By Victor Buono
Lord, my soul is ripped with riot,
Incited by my wicked diet.
“We are what we eat!” said a wise old man;
And Lord, if that’s true, I’m a garbage can.
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that’s plain;
But at my present weight, I’ll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall,
Into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot-curls be sated,
That my soul may be poly-unsaturated.
And show me the light, that I may bear witness,
To the President’s Council on Physical Fitness.
And at oleomargarine I’ll never mutter,
For the road to Hell is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
And Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
The Devil is in each slice of baloney;
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop;
And Lucifer is a lollipop.
Give me this day my daily slice,
But cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees;
Deliver me from jujubes.
And when my days of trial are done,
And my war with malted milks is won,
Let me stand with the heavenly throng
In a shining robe – size 44 long.
I can do it, Lord, if you’ll show to me
The virtues of lettuce and celery;
If you’ll teach me the evils of mayonnaise,
The sinfulness of Hollandaise.
Of Pasta a la Milannaise,
Potatoes a la Lyonnaise.
And crisp-fried chicken from the South,
Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.
On this day – this day for giving thanks – let each one of us remember all the things that we are truly thankful for. From all of us at The Colorado Statesman, to all of you, thanks. Thanks for being our readers, and thanks for being our friends. Cya.
Got a grumble in your stomach or a grumble in your head? Contact The Fox at www.jayfoxcpa.com with all comments, compliments and complaints.