Suddenly out of the blue (the very dark fucking blue that is so dark blue, your eyes trick you into believing that it is black) a giant bucket of precooked hardboiled eggs turns into a flesh eating tub of chicken embryo. While being chased through a giant space twirling with techni-color and polka dots, I manage to pull a giant sword out of my pants and turn that son of bitch into a tasty mixture best known to go in between two pieces of your favorite bread. After I awake from this horrible dream, my mind is set on one question...What the fuck was that all about?
Recently I was working for a restaurant and the menu said "Welcome, we have fun creative southern food here." When in all reality, this place made a fucking looney-ward look like a resort hotel. The things I saw made me cringe everyday, and I often asked myself why I was there. The owner and...Chef and...Managers and... Bartender and... Servers and...Cunt... This person played all the roles. This person tried to do everything. Often I would come in and I would feel as if I was three years old again. I really and truly hated this place and everything it will never be.
So! Back to my dream... What did this dream mean? Why was I being chased by a giant pail of processed-precooked-packaged eggs? The food world is slowing turning into an assembly line of garbage and as a result society is losing it's ability to know good food. Not just shit that tastes good, but shit that is good. Quality, quality, quality... But how do you achieve quality when the word and meaning itself no longer exists?
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