It is a rare but welcome event to participate in a Pythonesque sketch in real life. While I have taken some liberty with the dialog, I can assure you that what is depicted below captures the essence of the very real events of my encounter with The Meat Man.

After having been up half the night tending to my feverish wife (yeh! she's got bettah, thank you!), I was just laying down on the soft bed in the guest bedroom to take a nap while the missus was quietly sleeping in our room when - just as the last bit of tension in my muscles had finally dissolved and I could feel the breath of Morpheus upon my face - the doorbell rang.

I fell out of bed, and pulling my clothes on, stumbled towards the front door barefoot. I could hear the missus stirring, and moved quickly so as not to have her further disturbed. As I approached the door, a heavy-fisted pounding bounced from it , making me stop in my tracks. I finished donning my clothes, took the last few steps and opened the door, blinkingly, to see a squat, husky man in his late thirties carrying a clipboard in both hands, take a few, careful steps back away from the door. He had a gingery, close-shaven and balding head, with some oval, plastic rimmed glasses set upon his pale nose. The man smiled broadly and said, "Hi! I'm the Meat Man!"

"... The who?!" To my tired eyes, he seemed unreasonably cheerful.

"I'm the Meat Man... The Meat Man! " he said, pointing emphatically towards his white freezer truck parked in the street. On the side panel of the truck, it said "The Meat Man".


"And it's great meat - top quality - and beats Costco prices, beats Fred Meyer... great deals..."

"Are you a butcher?", I asked observing his butcher-like coat, which was sharply pressed and pristinely white.

"No, I'm The Meat Man. I deliver the meat to your door. Beats Costco... great cuts. Really great stuff! All from the Mid-west! Omaha - best cuts, flash-frozen..."


"Of course, if you're not into it - "

"Into what?", I said, squinting at him.

"I-I-I mean no offense - not everyone likes or even buys meat. I mean it's OK..." Up until this point he had been relentlessly good-natured, but he seemed to falter here, waving his clipboard about and staring at his shoes.

"I'm not a vegetarian, if that's what you mean I'm-"

"A carnivore?!", he said, studying me intently.

... an omnivore."

"Well, it'll only takes 30 seconds - well, 3 minutes - but I can show you my meat, what I have..."

Wha...? Actually, I've just woken up and, and... this really isn't the best time-"

"Should I come back some time? I could come back! I could show you my meat then!"

Um... well, I really don't think we're interested... no, thanks. I... um... I'm sorry. Best of luck. Goodbye."

"Oh... well, OK then... Thanks. Bye!" He nodded somewhat sadly, and turned to leave.

As I began to step back into the house and close the door, he turned suddenly around and said earnestly, "Are you sure you don't want to see my meat?"

"Um... no, no thank you. Goodbye."

"Bye!", said The Meat Man. I closed the door.

Totally FOXy!

John Stewart, will you marry me?

Out With the Old...

Harper's Index: A retrospective of the Bush Era. If that list doesn't make you wish it was all a nightmare, there is something wrong with you. Bush Apologizes: The Farewell Interview We Wish He'd Give. An Epitaph for the Bush Era.