05/22/2026
I grew up riding our future hamburgers.
We raised beef animals for food. Ours were friendly creatures with names like Sir Loin and Patty that didnāt seem to mind us climbing onto their backs while they grazed.
Theyād lick us with their long, rough tongues, which eventually ended up in our freezer, wrapped in plastic, right next to the ice cream treats.
I can never, ever eat tongue. For this and plenty of other reasons.
Dad loved it fried.
This is what happens when Chicago suburbanites move out to the country to take up hobby farming. ššš¾
This is really me in a photo I just dug up. How about those green boots?
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