(Kruiser’s Permanote Description: This column is intended to be a lighthearted, short-form way to frequently connect with our cherished VIP readers. Sometimes it will be serious. Sometimes it will be fun. Sometimes it will be a cornucopia of intellectual curiosities and fascinations. OK, maybe not so much the last one. Anyway, as this is a departure for me, I’m including this explanation at the top of each post for a while. Also, non-subscribers can see the first couple of paragraphs so I am in desperate need of filler until we get to the private stuff (subscribe here). Please remember that there is a standing invitation to ask me anything in the comments. Once in a while, I’ll answer some of them.)
Lovers of avocados know the dilemma all too well: you buy an avocado that’s harder than any rocks in your yard, set it aside to ripen, then one night while you’re asleep the thing goes rotten in about four minutes.
Before I continue, I would like to acknowledge the fact that some of you don’t like avocados. I don’t know which one of your parents didn’t give you enough affection, but it’s important that you know that you’re probably all psychopaths.
Not only is there a brief window of ripeness that is impossible to gauge with avocados, but there’s also a period where, though ripe, the avocado isn’t yet flavorful. The psycho haters are no doubt now wondering why we put up with this gastronomical crapshoot.
Because guacamole, duh.
Anyway, I have (FIRST WORLD PROBLEM INCOMING) had a horrible run of bad luck with my avocado windows for three weeks running now. I’m a little snake-bit at the moment. It’s gotten to the point where I am convinced that any avocados I’ve just purchased are going to rot the moment I turn away from them after putting them in my kitchen.
With enough vodka in me, I can almost hear them laughing behind my back.
My default since January 2009 is to blame Barack Obama for everything. I still do even in Joe Biden’s America. Let’s be honest, we wouldn’t be stuck with this puppet president had The Lightbringer not kept him around for eight years to ensure that he would be the safest president ever. I’m a creature of habit, so I’m sticking with “Obama’s fault” on this one.
I desperately need some quality avocado time here soon because I know that they won’t be served in whichever gulag I’m eventually sent to.
Oh yeah, there’s no way I’ll make it to November without getting a knock on my door.
