I've gotten pretty good at NOT accepting the truckloads of magazines, adverts, and flyers that are thrust into my hands each morning as I make my way across the city. But, when a pretty young girl dressed as a caricature of a hippy - headband, love beads, and a t-shirt that resembled the floor of my shower in the 70's - handed me a small baggy of green leafy substance, instinct over-ruled reason. I thrust the herb deep into my pocket and walked away as she flashed me a peace sign. I felt a shiver of disturbance, like someone had just blown up a small planet, but pushed it deep into my gut and went about my day.
Later, that same disturbance welled up from the depths of my bowels and glowered at me in the form of a commercial interruption. Hippies from all directions congregated on my television screen, strumming guitars and flittering about to the gentle strains of The Byrds as billows of sweet smelling smoke engulfed their heads and obscured their vision of their hand painted combi-van.
I reached into my pocket to inspect my herbal parcel. Rosemary. I returned my attention to the love-in, which was, in fact, an Aussie BBQ.
These bloody hippies want me to eat Spring Lamb!
And yet...
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2 comments:
See, marketers know that most people will not be unkind to hippies which is why they made her shove rosemary into your hand and you felt powerless to refuse. Clever strategy!
Have you seen the Sam Kekovich lamb commericals? Quite an art, a) to make them and, b) to listen to them. I love Sam tho, for all his rhetoric.
And lamb. Yea, verily. I love that too. I could eat lamb morning, noon and night - oh, except for the time I was a jilaroo in my somewhat misspent youth when we either ate lamb morning, noon and night or jam sandwiches. Sometimes we had lamb and jam, together, in a sandwich.
Yea, verily, and so they spake.
The rosemary was an extremely disappointing ending.
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