 Good morning fellow humpsters – it’s hump day once again!
And what a good day it is, I guess. Cousin Fred was up bright and early this morning. At 0400 when I got up and started coffee, he came rushing up from Das Boot (his residence here at The Compound) and suddenly appeared in front of the picture window that looks out the front of the main house. He was banging on the window. The Compound Mutts went crazy with the barking. There was a shriek from somewhere inside the house. The Wife was screaming that my “@#%*ing idiot cousin” was on the porch. That was followed by more shrieks of “why is your !#$@ing cousin on the porch? Tell that <insert your favorite expletive here> I’ve got a gun loaded with a bullet with his name on it!” I could see Cousin Fred waving a piece of paper in his hand. Obviously, something important. Perhaps a summons for me from the White House to deliberate on the latest NoKo debacle (they aren't going to cooperate...go figure)? I opened the front door, which set off for whatever reason, the phantom doorbell that occasionally rings for no apparent reason. More shrieking from the back. That was followed by the sound of a striking match to light the first of many filterless Pall-Mall cigs today. Good, that will calm her down. The dogs are barking furiously again – the phantom doorbell makes them think UPS is delivering another package…at 0400…stupid mutts. They’re now out the door and chasing the jackrabbits off the center lawn. Ahhh, the start of another day here at The Compound. I let Cousin Fred in who asks if coffee is ready and do we still have any of those Hostess Orange Cupcakes (a weakness of mine). I get right to the point, asking what’s so G-D important that he has raise the alarm at The Compound? He shows me something he printed off the internet, a page from Bloomberg.com that says chicken wing prices have reached a four-year low. Oh, and they’re likely to stay that way throughout the summer. For this, Cousin Fred woke the entire central time zone? But he was excited and on a roll so I let him…roll, that is. It seems that demand for chicken wings has fallen off sharply since the last Super Bowl. Consequently, prices are plummeting as wholesalers are up to their eyebrows in chicken wings. Who knew? I DO know why the demand is waning. Most chicken wings suck! There I said it. You can’t find a decent recipe for chicken wings in restaurants or frozen foods any more. Why is that? Have we become such foodies that we’re always looking for new ways to get high? All I know is that I’ve not had a decent chicken wing in years. The foodies want them with Thai sour coconut sauce or French essence of mussels sauce…crap like that! Not your problem, I know. It seems that the four-year low in wholesale chicken wing prices is at $1.37 per pound. Compare that to $2.18 per pound in September 2017, which according to the USDA (whose motto translated from the Latin is, “We’ve never set foot on a farm, nor shall we!”) was the all-time record for chicken wing prices. Thank you, USDA…morons. At that point, Cousin Fred informed me that I need to buy a new freezer. I was sipping coffee and not really listening when he said it. “Huh? What?” It seems that Cousin Fred has ordered a ton of frozen chicken wings to be delivered here to The Compound in the next couple of days. Because he got so many freakin’ wings, they (distributors of said wings) gave him their non-gringo price of $1.20 per pound. I pointed out that we don’t have room for that much frozen food even if I were to buy an additional freezer, which I won’t do. “No problemo, Cousin!” he says. He had already contacted The Daughter, who most of you will recall graduated from the George Mason School for Advanced Truck Driving last year about this time. She’s going to load the chicken wings into a refrigerated trailer and drive them out here direct from the east coast. Cousin Fred wants to have a chicken wing orgy (so to speak) here at The Compound this weekend. I asked who’s cooking said chicken wings. He said, “Why you of course, Cousin!” I've begun searching for chicken wing recipes. I’m going for classic flavor. Screw you foodies with your sweet, tangy sauces. Good food is painful. Thus speaketh Mr. Robin. Everyone is invited to The Compound this weekend for the First Annual Chicken Wing Orgy (no nudity involved, we promise). Be here, aloha! More to follow. That is all! Comments are closed.
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