Pork Salad Annie

Another day checking for food and drinks courtesy of our nation’s lobbyists.  There was only one reception, the National Pork Producers Council.  They’ll do.

Peter and I chatted for a while with a familiar face.  It was another intern, a cute stocky blonde who also liked free food.  He was a deluge of politico-geek insider information.  That picture of Elvis and Nixon in the Oval Office?  Intern legend has it that when it was taken, Elvis also went to the Capitol and etched his name somewhere.  Stocky blonde claimed to have found the infamous vandalism.

When we called bullsh!t he took Peter and me to see it.  When no one was looking, Stocky blonde lifted the heavy velvet curtain of the window adjacent to the chamber doors.  On the left frame, there it was; Elvis, carved with serial killer penmanship precision.  I’m pretty sure it’s genuine.

Peter wandered over to the Pork People.  “Oh, The Congressman loves what the… um… (looking up at a banner) National Pork Producers Council is doing.  Really big fan.  You know, we are having an office barbeque this weekend and The Congressman would be so appreciative…” he didn’t have to finish.  The cooler was already open.  Eight…nine.  Maybe more.

“The Congressman thanks you…” Peter said piously as he walked away.

I hope that the Pork People didn’t think their generosity would put them on speed dial with the lone Republican Jewish member in the House.

Peter approached, “We got to get these babies in the fridge.”  He lifted my arm to indicate “before we’re caught.”

At first, Peter and I ate pork like a boss!  Then we started to eat it like mid-level management.  Then entry-level nobodies.

It was another 10 years until I ate pork tenderloin again.  I made it for a dinner party and it came out of the oven looking like a baby’s arm.

Peter started letting his roommates take them.  We were over it.

Putty jumped at the opportunity to showcase his culinary skills and eat an entire pork tenderloin by himself.

We watched as Putty used an entire tin of Old Bay and massaged it into the pig flesh.  Pork handled that much becomes mealy, and the red powder infiltrated the tiny tears in the muscle fibers.   The result looked like a dead baby’s arm instead of just a baby arm.

Me (1) Putty (0)

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