A farewell to meat porn

And so, Happy Fathers Day, Dad. You are the faceless arm and torso that frame our World of Meat. Your half-comotose wife and square-headed progeny salute you with their adoring, perhaps medically -prescribed, gazes. Even though you seem to have forgotten the grill this evening, and demanded we throw the meat directly onto the lighter-fluid-soaked charcoal briquettes.

Incidentally, I don't know what kind of animal that cut of meat came off of, but I fail to see how the creature could have walked.

If you still don't believe me about 50's meat, check out the chart below. These things eerily resemble the hibernating grubs I dig up in my garden every spring. Mmmm-mmm. Bet those would go great on a shish-kabob.