I now understand that which plagues the musicians who have trouble understanding why Rock Band would be fun.I came from nothing. When Mr. Meatyagi found me I was nothing more than a scrawny, little Koala McBear who liked to munch on some leaves*. Now look at me. I’m right up there with Kobayashi himself and also some white guy. Fistful after fistful into facefull after facefull, I have scraped and scrambled (eggs) to get to the caliber and quality of eating so that I can call myself a professional. To simplify and trivialize this into nothing more than a game - a game where children may stand up, shake around, and possibly loose weight is confusing and frightening for me. Nintendo, my life is not a game. And “Major League Eating” is an abomination.

To all of my fans who have written me asking for guidance on this matter, do not fret. Eating as a professional is still the most renowned and beautiful art of all our nation’s pasttimes. (And they say America never came up with anything besides Jazz.)

My children, I now know what must be done. I, being the natural best, must beat the game. Literally. I’ll beat the essbomb right out of it. Digital, intangible substance be damned! I understand that I will be known the world over and YES I know that even though I seek none of it, I will be adorned with riches that I will selfishly squander on golden cars and golden arches, turning my back on all the little McBears out there. But worry not, I will never forget where I came from. I promise, I will still like to get high**.

*and consequently get high.
**high in protein?

Friday, July 18th, 2008 at 6:28 pm.
Filed under Food.
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