By Jim Hagarty
I just returned from my nightly walk around the block.
Tonight was a little unusual in that I stopped to talk to a neighbour, out giving her doggie his bedtime pee. Feeling the need to explain why I was out walking so late at night, I told her my doctor says I need to walk.
Well, she grabbed onto that, one thing led to another and the conversation took a horrible turn when she began rattling off the evils of processed peanut butter. I was commanded to quit that shit as it is full of sugar and salt. In her fridge, is a nice big jar of natural, organic peanut butter, no additives. We have a jar of that stuff in our fridge too and now and then, if I am desperate, I will scoop out a spoonful. To call it peanut “butter” would be to call a round hunk of asphalt a cherry pie. The worst thing about natural peanut butter is it tastes, well, like peanuts.
I like the peanut butter that has eliminated any association with the peanut, while keeping the brown colour.
I made my neighbour no promises to quit that shit but maybe some day I will.
I will do it, in fact, on the day I cut myself up a nice big slice of asphalt pie.
