Finding my way to the lair of Sheldon Backwater was simple enough. There was an interactive map next to the office index, and it indicated where to go, and how to get there, once I indicated the particular bureaucrat required. Once there, the ordeal began with being offered a chair. Actually, it was more like being directed to sit on one of two chairs facing the desk of Sheldon Backwater, neither risking that one should find comfort there. One would swear that there was a riser behind the desk so that the seated Sheldon gazed down benevolently from a height. And there was. It was one of his particular flourishes. He called it “The Magistrate Riser”. On command, I stated my permit requirement, whereupon a search of the permits box produced the proper forms. As it happens, they were laminated example forms, and all data was recorded digitally by Sheldon himself. A foolproof way to prevent the petitioner from fouling the perfected delineation of data by extraneous, wasteful, or incorrect entries. I would provide the data, and he would serve as my window to the wider world of the bureaucracy. Having cleared that first hurdle, of being able to supply the information as to what permit I required, I began to feel more confident, nearly exuberant, really. It was all going so well and so smoothly.
In my younger days, I was (foolishly) a smoker. I always loved the smell of pipe tobacco in the pouch (things like Cherry Blend) but somehow it never translated into anything better in a pipe. And those dottles were amazingly foul.
Wow, an authentic No. 10 Meat Chopper from Enterprise of Philadelphia! That guy doesn’t know how good he’s got it. Last time I was ground up, it was on a No. 4. They’re nowhere near as reliable, and the extrusion gauge is a LOT smaller. Ouch!
As my ole grandpa used to say, (after a few Ballentine ales and shots of rye whiskey,) “Life’s a grind, kid! Just make sure you don’t become the sausage!”
I used to smoke a pipe. Dottle is an oily residue that accumulates in the stem and sometimes the bowl. It’s a mixture of destructive distillation products and saliva. It tastes bitter. One of the things pipe cleaners are used for is soaking up dottle.
I haven’t smoked a pipe in decades, so no dottles here! And my windows haven’t muntins, either!
But (he said, consolingly), my well-remembered Italian grandmother had a meat-grinder almost exactly like that one; she used it in particular to grind up the brains. Calf brains were a main ingredient, along with spinach, eggs, and I don’t recall what-all else, in the stuffing for her 100% homemade-from-scratch ravioli, which I loved and still drool over at the memory. Drool, slobber, drip, drip….
Brass Orchid Premium Member over 2 years ago
Braving the Bureaucracy: Episode Six
Finding my way to the lair of Sheldon Backwater was simple enough. There was an interactive map next to the office index, and it indicated where to go, and how to get there, once I indicated the particular bureaucrat required. Once there, the ordeal began with being offered a chair. Actually, it was more like being directed to sit on one of two chairs facing the desk of Sheldon Backwater, neither risking that one should find comfort there. One would swear that there was a riser behind the desk so that the seated Sheldon gazed down benevolently from a height. And there was. It was one of his particular flourishes. He called it “The Magistrate Riser”. On command, I stated my permit requirement, whereupon a search of the permits box produced the proper forms. As it happens, they were laminated example forms, and all data was recorded digitally by Sheldon himself. A foolproof way to prevent the petitioner from fouling the perfected delineation of data by extraneous, wasteful, or incorrect entries. I would provide the data, and he would serve as my window to the wider world of the bureaucracy. Having cleared that first hurdle, of being able to supply the information as to what permit I required, I began to feel more confident, nearly exuberant, really. It was all going so well and so smoothly.
Brass Orchid Premium Member over 2 years ago
I’ll have the No. 10, well done, and a large Coca-Cola®.
painedsmile over 2 years ago
And while you’re at it, get your chocolate out of my peanut butter.
3hourtour Premium Member over 2 years ago
…is a doddle the same as the scrappings from a pipe?…
…asking for a friend…
…whoa!…
…fresh meat on Frog Applause…
…butt butt but…
…just so you know…
…that I know…
…that you know…
…that I know…
…mutins are a pain…
…[alternative spelling: pane]…
…as the wife says…
…if you have to explain a joke…
…it’s not that funny…
…to which I reply…
…if the joke has to be funny…
…I would have no jokes to tell…
…just saying…
…divide your Oreo…
…put a Ritz cracker on the creamy cookie…
…and put the non-creamy Oreo cooky on top of a peanut butter covered Ritz…
… Add saracha sauce for flavor…
The Old Wolf over 2 years ago
In my younger days, I was (foolishly) a smoker. I always loved the smell of pipe tobacco in the pouch (things like Cherry Blend) but somehow it never translated into anything better in a pipe. And those dottles were amazingly foul.
Zebrastripes over 2 years ago
Hmmm! Where can I find casing big enough for this “sauseege” ?
Nothing’s worse than cranking out dis meat, (((((gasp))))!
Better than cement shoes…
Rotifer HEATHEN POTATO WE KNEW YE WELL Thalweg Premium Member over 2 years ago
I didn’t know there was a sequel to Fargo.
coltish1 over 2 years ago
Wow, an authentic No. 10 Meat Chopper from Enterprise of Philadelphia! That guy doesn’t know how good he’s got it. Last time I was ground up, it was on a No. 4. They’re nowhere near as reliable, and the extrusion gauge is a LOT smaller. Ouch!
Mad-ge Dish Soap over 2 years ago
Lobster yo scream and boil
Grind and future fortunetellers scream too.
Howard'sMyHero over 2 years ago
I have an axe to GRIND …
That ain’t no stinkin’ meat choppah …!
Plods with ...™ over 2 years ago
Never boring here. Educational Day
Radish the wordsmith over 2 years ago
This is not an ass.
Linguist over 2 years ago
As my ole grandpa used to say, (after a few Ballentine ales and shots of rye whiskey,) “Life’s a grind, kid! Just make sure you don’t become the sausage!”
willie_mctell over 2 years ago
I used to smoke a pipe. Dottle is an oily residue that accumulates in the stem and sometimes the bowl. It’s a mixture of destructive distillation products and saliva. It tastes bitter. One of the things pipe cleaners are used for is soaking up dottle.
6turtle9 over 2 years ago
Don’t be a pane in the ass.
painedsmile over 2 years ago
No. 10. Normally, being labeled a 10 is complimentary, except for this time.
Sisyphos over 2 years ago
I haven’t smoked a pipe in decades, so no dottles here! And my windows haven’t muntins, either!
But (he said, consolingly), my well-remembered Italian grandmother had a meat-grinder almost exactly like that one; she used it in particular to grind up the brains. Calf brains were a main ingredient, along with spinach, eggs, and I don’t recall what-all else, in the stuffing for her 100% homemade-from-scratch ravioli, which I loved and still drool over at the memory. Drool, slobber, drip, drip….
LVObserver over 2 years ago
Not quite the grinder Poppy used in Kingman The Golden Circle, same results.
Radish the wordsmith over 2 years ago
Put mine on a bun.