When it comes to this:
I will defer the expert, my buddy John Moe:
Stopping off for gas, I realized that I had not yet fulfilled part of rule #11: beef jerky, so I spent five bucks on a large bag of Oberto brand jerky. It looked like tree bark but smelled like a dead animal that had been left outside for a few weeks. I hadn’t tried the stuff in years, actually, since it’s expensive, and to be honest, I always associated beef jerky with the suburban/redneck element of my hometown, which was an element that I had spent most of my postsurburban New Yorker-subscribing life distancing myself from. Still, on this morning I was hungry, the sack of jerky was on the passenger side, and with Rush blaring on the car radio, I decided to try it. And Oh My Ever-Loving God. It went straight to my bloodstream. I was flying. This was the best thing I had ever tasted! If this was what conservatives ate, I was ready to sign up for the John Birch Society right then and there.
If you enjoy this blog but sometimes wish it were “well written” or “funny” or “proofread”, please check out John’s book Conservatize Me: How I Tried to Become a Righty with the Help of Richard Nixon, Sean Hannity, Toby Keith, & Beef Jerky.
Rating: Having already farmed the commentary of this entry out to John, I think I will delegate the evaluation as well. In this case to another close friend, Edgar:
Eddie is not the most articulate food critic in my household, but he is far and away the most passionate. Yesterday when I opened the package of beef jerky while sitting on the couch and watching The Wire, this black, amorphous mass was on me like Venom on Parker. After I relented and gave him a few pieces, little dude sounded like an idling Hummer. So yeah, we’ll chalk that up as approval. Edgar’s rating: this is the best day of my life/$1.