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Thursday, March 31, 2005
Today's Houston Chronicle "Dining Guide" contains an article which shows why restaurant writing should be discouraged with heavy fines and jail time (and I'm not ruling out the possibility of capital punishment for repeat offenders).
The writer, Alison Cook, churns out a gushing review for a restaurant called La Parmigiana. The article cranks along all right until we come to the description of the Mezzaluna pizza, which is folded in half:
Gigged? As in frog? And I hate those non-committal sun-dried tomatoes.
As for other pizzas:
Rope? Well, it is Texas, after all. Yee-ha!
But what, I asked Niles, if your chicken isn't blameless and inoffensive? What if it's one of those foul street chickens, a real tough egg, always up before the beak and accustomed to long stays in the coop? What, in short, if your chicken is guilty?
This (as so much does) caused Niles to sing: Guilty chickens got no pizza...
Well, OK, it was a scream before breakfast.
A while back, someone wrote to Miss Manners about an annoying friend who would suddenly burst into song:
We laughed and laughed at this. It was Niles who inspired this post by breaking into song when I morosely remarked that "All the blogs are down."
He usually stops singing when I kick him.
[By the way, if the title confuses you, just see here, and here (third photo) and oh especially here (third and fourth photos).]