Sunday, October 23, 2011

The Power of Caveman Grilling

      Grilling is an art form. Though, on the surface, it seems like just another way of cooking. How little ye know. Much like painting, procrastination and sculpting with elephant shit, the art is in how it's done. The artistry, I believe, is not in the plethora of tomato/vinegar based, sauce-ilicious pastes you slather on food, but, from the way you create the fire that cooks said...pasty I am a minimalist in this regard. I try to do it with as few charcoal briquettes as possible. I'm working my way down to one. Yesterday, I made a charcoal grill burn hotter than the surface of the sun, starting from six charcoal briquettes. I felt transcendent. Though, I'm surprised I walked away unscathed. At one point, I created a fire ball that licked up the side of the house and could have killed us all. I felt singed with addition to facial hair. The fire calmed and settled. I gazed into the hellish glow of fiery embers, I pondered. I wonder how many cavemen, burned into fiery heap of screaming, trying to harness the unpredictable, eye brow torching nature of fire.

See how it grows angry when I fart on it? Art, bitches.

      Imagine if you will, you were one of them. Being one of first loin clothed cave dwellers, yearning to burn the world down. You have the flint and the wood, you go to work. After a while, the wood smolders, the first dazzling sparks begin a flame, soon, it will grow to a roar. You build it up. It climbs high. You beam with pride as your fire child flickers toward the heavens. Then, your loin cloth is on fire. At first you don't notice. Boy, my crotch is getting ever warmer, you think. Well, now your junk is scorched. Your screams fill the fire fueled night. Panic informs your, now, erratic motions as you run headlong into your flaming child's awaiting arms. Wrong...move, dumb ass. Caveman crazy, you scramble frantically. Now, your idiot ass is consumed in flames that your startled mind can't fathom escaping, let alone extinguishing. Burning to death your brain grapples with the unwanted epiphany, that this is the clear and final evidence, that you are gravely...gravely stupid. 

Why?! Why did I try to play with the hotness?!

      It must have been a long hard road to where we are now. Fuck, even today people set themselves on fire out of sheer stupidity. It all started with a lot of cave persons burning appendages, charred testicles, smoldering vaginae and burnt dreadlocks. They all had dreadlocks, right? Regardless, they must have lost a lot of dirty fucking cavemen trying to keep fire under control. What a strange time in human history it must have been. All those poor stupid burning cavemen. Grunting and cave...manning. Fucking what? Why do I think about this shit? I don't know. I think it have had something to do with all those asbestos licking contests or mistakenly snorting baby powder instead of cocaine for years. What did I know? Shit...they have the same consistency. Maybe it goes further back. Back to the days of infant Elton. The strained liver and peas gave me brain damage. No? Oh, that's crazy talk is it? Well, how do you know? The infant care industry is crazy! What? Proof? You need proof? Well...fuck you! It's just...evil. Baaaby evil. You know it too. To tell you the truth...there's just something I don't trust, about that mother fucking Gerber baby. It's eerie. 

Look into that kid's eyes and tell me it isn't channeling Satan.