Labels and Fables
A cabbage match made in heaven.
Don’t be fooled by labels… a lot of times they are used to tell you what something isn’t rather than what something is. How many non-hoberries do you know that label their bony booties as “JUICY” when even Skeletor would pass on that ass? I never quite got why guys in high school would tell me that shaving their Black Forest made their jimmer-jammer look bigger. I always just thought getting a boner made mine look bigger, but I guess I had some growing up to do.
How about the ultimate label… circumcision? Remind me what this label says again? Hygiene? It don’t take a foreskin to make a person sick. Believe me. It’s more attractive? That’s a bullshit thing to say. It’s like saying the Thousand Year Reich is good after the fact… yes everyone is blonde and blue eyed and there is no more war, but did you see what it took to get there? No! You weren’t in the room when that newborn miracle had the most tasty part of him cut off. All you see is the result. You look at the result, you look at the label, but you don’t understand what is actually behind it all.
And this brings me to my final point. Pasteurized sauerkraut is basically like a circumcised penis. It has the look and feel of the real deal, but none of the natural saltiness and health benefits. Beside flavor, what makes kraut great? Probiotics. And what do Americans do to things that can be hiding places for bacteria? They pasteurize where possible, and circumcise where not. The problem is, what lays hidden in the unmarketable dark corners of our wangs and our jars is the best part of the trip. For in the foreskin is the greatest concentration of nerve endings. And in sauerkraut, real sauerkraut, is the stuff that keeps the gut churning out healthy movements. But here in the land of the clean and the home of the cut, in order to label everything clean we’ve destroyed the things that make us real.
-krautHammer
Sure, everybody knows it, because we’re all thinking it. No no NO, it’s not the fact that America’s democracy is showing signs of decay worse than the Sphinx’s unibrow. Nay, it is far more serious than that -- Kraut needs a major rebranding campaign in the worst way! It’s saur- (sour?), it’s stringy and wet to-boot and sports a moniker better suited to Hitler’s favorite anal-exploring gerbil. Well guess what, here’s my iPhone 5S, call someone who gives a shit. In fact, better yet, call someone who gives a FUCK. You do you, and kraut will do what it’s always done – fermentate and masturbate… your taste buds. Why does everything have to pose as something it’s not nowadays? It seems like any and every Insta-SHMO out there with better-than-average hair genetics and a well-worn copy of Kerouac thinks they have the right and duty to tell us all what’s what. But I say this: Who knows what’s what? I haven’t met them yet, and if you dear reader do, point them to me so I can shove a forkful of Kraut the size of a baseball into their gob. I liked it better when we owned the fact that we are all just mentally instable and flighty homo sapiens, chugging Schlitz and popping Benzos while the kids jump on the trampoline, all in an effort to dampen down the hunter-gatherer instincts our ancestors honed on the Savannah. Kraut doesn’t need an overhaul, we all need an underhaul. Life’s a bitch of a puzzle, don’t come at ol’ Saurpuss with any grand solutions that don’t include a solid brine and some good eatin’ for my gut biome.
-Sauerpuss
