Creamed Corn; a Memory

Creamed corn and I have a history. We go way back, creamed corn and I. I still remember that dinner, so long ago at my poet friend Mike's house. Fried chicken was on the menu, along with that most noxious of canned side dishes.

Mike's dad, Steve, in spite of my misgivings, plopped a generous pile of creamed corn on my plate. Creamed corn was certainly nothing I had encountered in my own home. Just what the hell was this stuff? Corn that was creamed? I poked and prodded a little. The consistency was not unlike oatmeal.

Then the smell hit me.

Have you ever smelled creamed corn? One whiff and you know something's not right. Open the can and it's right there--corn, but not exactly corn. Corrupted corn. It can be overpowering, like opening a can of cat food. You have to be ready for it. Hold it as far away as possible. It's a freight train to the olfactory glands.

Steve tried to reassure me. It was corn, he said. Just corn. There was nothing to be afraid of. You like corn, don't you?

Yes.

Well, then you'll love this.

I don't want to.

You have to.

I don't like it.

You haven't tried it.

I don't want to try it.

You can't leave the table until you do.

I picked at my wasted chicken breast. The creamed corn was waiting, its stench robbing me of all appetite. Time crawled by. Minutes melted into hours. There I was, at the table with Steve, Mike having already wolfed his creamed corn as though it was candy. He was off somewhere safe with his Legos, digesting this goo.

The windows filled with darkness. The creamed corn, long cold, was a sickly, yellow-grey island on my plate. Steve stood sentinel, the faintest smile curling on his moustachioed upper lip. Below me was the dog. The dog! If only my captor would turn away, just for a second. Dogs eat anything.

Now, understand that I like corn. Always have. I like cream too. Creamed corn, however, occupies the very bottom rung of the vegetable kingdom. Frozen succotash? Like steak by comparison. Strained peas? Next to creamed corn, strained peas are chocolate cake.

I don't want to try it, was my feeble defense, as futile as before.

You're not leaving the table till you try it.

I don't feel good.

You feel fine. One bite and you can go. Just one.

It was hopeless, I knew. My tormentor, motivated by god knows what, was determined. My fate was sealed. I lifted the fork to my mouth, the creamed corn smell invading my nasal passages, infecting my insides. My brain told me to do it fast, get it over with, but I couldn't. Fear gripped me. Sweat dotted my seven-year-old brow.

Then, all of a sudden, it was in my mouth, and the taste was somehow unlike the smell; it was far worse. I threw up. Steve feigned sympathy, though I could hear his internal cackle of joy. Out came the semi-digested chicken. Out came it all. Chaos ensued, the dog lapping up everything indiscriminantly.

The aftermath doesn't really matter. I will tell you that my love for creamed corn has not blossomed. I find it repulsive in every way. The smell of it still sends a quiver to my belly and conjures images of that fateful night when my world fell apart. I have since forgiven Steve, though he's never once offered an apology.

So I beg you all, gentle McBoners: if ever you invite me to dinner, I'll be a gracious guest. But please, for the love of all that's holy, hold the creamed corn!

nwb

PS. This is a true story.

I personally apologize

To all of you loyal Mcboners but Mark Price is going to retain his position as hero of the week. He is my all-time favorite athlete and because I have 50% ownership in this blog I can do what I want. He is the best point guard in history. If the Cavs had a player half his caliber running the show they would win it all. Don't believe me? Watch this video and view his all-time stats. If not for a freak knee injury he would have been viewed by all as the greatest point guard in history.



jab

Another One Bites the Dust

Adios, Alberto Gonzales. You are officially tossed on the stinking heap of godawful former Bush appointees. There to keep you company are John Ashcroft, Paul Wolfowitz, Karl Rove, John Bolton, and, my personal favorite, Donald Rumsfeld.

Now you get to spend the rest of your life basking in your legacy as one of America's foremost torture advocates. You are also guilty of having nine federal judges dismissed for political reasons and for having had a U.M. (Unforgivable Moustache).

nwb

I Gotta Find a Job, but I Don't Wanna Teach No Mo'.

As it stands, I am a cook. I'm fairly competetent, too. It's good work. Good, honest, demanding work, but I do not want to be a cook forever.

My experience tells me that the logical choice is to become a teacher. After all, I've spent the past three years teaching people of all ages and backgrounds how to properly use the English language. I've even enjoyed it at times.

And after three years I can say without reservation that the profession I have the most respect for is teaching. Teachers willingly assume the responsibility of educating the brats of the world, our screaming, sneezing, stinky, vomiting, back-talking, pants-wetting, tattling, fighting, germ-infested brats. Teachers deal with hormones. With large classes. With underfunding. With, god help them, parents. Teachers have to make lesson plans and grade homework and tests. Teachers have to discipline.

Teachers really deserve the great benefits that come with the job. I think they should be paid as much as they can spend. For those of you who disagree, try teaching full time for a week. You will quickly change your minds, I promise.

Personally, I would rather disembowel myself with a spork than become a full-time teacher. And yes, I know I'm focusing on the negative. I know that teaching has its share of glories, but it's the negatives that make eviscerating myself with a plastic utensil a much more desirable option.

So, what is Nate going to do? That's the question I'll be trying to answer in the coming months. And don't you worry, McBoners. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I'll happily keep slingin' hash.

nwb.

Nate's (tardy) Friday Sports Extravaganza

Indians

How refreshing to watch last Sunday's eight-run victory (followed by that one hit embarrassment to a double A pitcher, of course) and an eleven-run outburst on Wednesday. Can it mean that they're emerging from this months long funk? Well, yesterday C.C. Sabathia fell victim again to offensive ineptitude with another 2-1 loss. When C.C. and Fausto are on the mound, the Indians do not score more than two. Why? The quality of the opposing teams pitching? Sometimes, but let's face it, you don't expect a one hitter when your team is facing Jair Jurrjens from Curacao, do you?

This season depends of seven arms, those belonging to Sabathia, Carmona, Byrd, Westbrook, Betancourt, Perez and Borowski. They way that these guys have been throwing, and with Detroit's pitching continuing to flounder, I'll take my chances.

You could almost attach the label "unhittable" to Sabathia, Carmona and Westbrook since the all-star break. Their ERA is hovering somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.00. Considering their combined record in this span, however, it would be more accurate to call them "just hittable enough to lose."

Hit or no hit, this team is in the pennant race and they are in first place in the central. I'll take it anytime.

Cavaliers

LeBron looks good playing next to Jason Kidd. How I'd love to see him run with a point guard in the regular season. Get something done, Cavs. Let's see the following rotation sometime in the coming season:

PG: Hypothetical proficient point guard.
SG: Larry Hughes
SF: LeBron James
PF: Anderson Varejao (assuming that Drew Gooden is our main bargaining chip)
C: Zydrunas Ilgauskas

Bench: Gibson (he's so perfectly suited as firepower off the bench), Pavlovic (yeah, he'd probably have to be traded too, but I can dream), Brown (can't wait to see what this guy can do in 25 minutes per).

I like Donyell Marshall. I didn't like seeing him miss all those threes in the playoffs. His game is gone. Sadly, his contract remains.

I like Damon Jones. I have a feeling he's played his last game as a Cav.

I like Eric Snow. I don't ever want to see him play again.

Browns

Quarterback controversies. I hate them. The media love them. Romeo Crennel has a tough job in playing down the situation with Brady Quinn, who, no matter what he does in the preseason, will not and should not be the team's starter at any point in the season. Why throw his talent to the wolves when he's not ready?

That doesn't mean he shouldn't see some snaps during the season. Let's just not make another Tim Couch out of the fellow.

Listening to sports talk radio--it's absurd. No matter how bad the Browns are, there are always a batch of people who are wildly optimistic about the season. I've heard 11-5 predictions. More like 5-11, which may still be optimistic. The Browns have some nice players. They are moving in a good direction. They are going to suck.

Nate's unreasonable prediction of the week

All three teams will make the playoffs this year.

I Bought a Car the Other Day...

I bought a car the other day, specifically a 2004 Honda Civic ex that was listed at $15,995. After a test drive and the obligatory bargaining session I came away agreeing to pay around 14 grand with no money down. About 20 minutes was all it took to reach a deal, and, after a check on my credit and on my word that I was gainfully employed, we sealed the deal.

I couldn't believe how easy it was. Alex and I had been unemployed for almost two months. What we have in the bank could be called meager at best. I only three days ago started working. Alex started yesterday. It perplexes me that I was able to buy something as huge and expensive as a car when our assets are so few. In fact, whatever assets we have are largely a mirage, as we owe spectacular amounts in student loans. When I told my cousin I had bought a car, she asked me "with what money?" It seems the auto dealership might have asked the same at some point. They didn't bother.

Luckily our expenses right now are minimal. We can afford the car, even with our modest incomes. The thing that gets me is how typical it is as Americans to live so heavily dependent on credit. We drive this car with the understanding that a bank loan at 6.6% will be faithfully paid by the first day of each of the next 60 months. This is the way people function, and our multi-trillion dollar national dept is perhaps the most poignant reminder of how acceptable and expected it is in this country to live beyond one's means.

I'm not so sure where this is going, other than to say that, even though we boast constantly that we are the richest country in the world, so much of American weath seems, well, bogus. I wonder if the wheels will someday fall off?

nwb

A Public Service Message From McBone: Foods to Avoid

McBone strongly urges you to avoid the following foods:

1. Mayonnaise
2. Circus peanuts
3. Aerosol cheese
4. Candy corn
5. McDonalds
6. Funyuns
7. Meow Mix (ok for cats)
8. Kraft singles
9. Sno-balls
10. Tuna-noodle casserole

Consumption of any of these so-called foods is dangerous and potentially fatal. Extreme care should be taken with children.

Paid for by McBone, Inc.

Amazing Video

Further proof of how evil these people are: