Tag Archives: mustard

Dear Guru: Mustard Sally

dearguru

I'm withholding my otherwise witty comment.

I’m withholding my otherwise witty comment.

Q.
Why do we put mustard on hot dogs?

#Kzinti #from #Twitter

A.
I’ll be happy to answer that perceptive question. But first I feel the urge to sing.

Mustard Sally, think you better slow your mustard down.
Mustard Sally, think you better slow your mustard down.
You been running all over my hot dog.
Oh! I guess we’ll have to have your mustard on the ground.

Yo, cat! Sup? I have to say thanks for the question. I relish this opportunity. I shall endeavor to layer my response. Yep. Like an ogre. Ogres have layers. Onions have layers.
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Comic: Philosophy 101

Professor Grim Reaper

It’s hard to believe I drew this all by myself, eh?

Workplace Barflies

This image, just like this post, does not cut the mustard.

This image, just like this post, does not cut the mustard.

There’s really no point to this post. Leave. Now. -Ed.

Feed. It’s what’s for dinner. Mmm. That sounds good. I’ll have that! Yeah, I’m a hundred and six years old, and I still make my own bread! (Prideful braggart.)

Well, what do you want to eat? Mmm. Do you have biscuit with a little bit of mustard on it? Mmm.

I don’t know about your family but in my family we have this tradition. Any time we assemble to break break together (or biscuit or whatever) there’s one thing we’ll do for sure: Discuss and speculate about the next meal a comin’.

It’s pretty much the exact opposite of being mindful and appreciative. Someone went to a lot of effort and bother to put this food before us. First, they had to have a vision and plan the damn thing, and that may be the hardest part of all. Then they went to a grocery store and spent money on stuff and brought it home. Then, using recipes and their own skills, prepared, assembled and cooked it all together while we sat on our lazy asses.

Yeah, I think they deserve more appreciation than us talking about the next meal we plan to shove in our face holes.

That said, where do you wanna go? To eat? That’s the conversation my wife and I had last night.
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