An obsequious guru seeks some sauce in kitchen stadium. ALLEZ CUISINE!!!

As I write this I have butterflies in my stomach…

It is time to regale a simple tale born hatched of humble beginnings. A tale years in the making. It’s a tale that will turn your stomach. And it is one that must never, ever be told. So keep reading. You’ll be glad you did.

Two drosophila walk into a bar. The bartender asks, “What’ll you have?” One points at the other and says, “Ask him. He’s supposed to be the genus.”

–Tom B. Taker

For once I will set aside petty narcissism and histrionics. The tale is too damn important. It must not be tarnished by cheap tricks or overt grabs at drama. So the telling will be without hyperbole. It will be simply told. I want this post to stand the test of time so future generations thousands of years from now will truly appreciate the moment and say things like, “That shit is fucked up. Can this even be real?”

Come. Let us retire to the Puparium and I will tell the tale anon.
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