Sunday, April 6, 2008

Bob Hornsby prides himself on being politically correct

The domestic associate and I live in an area which is fairly isolated from cultural diversity. So naturally we get bored eating mono-cultural meals every day. Our domestic administrative coordinator and culinary specialist does an impeccable job of maintaining a widely varied menu but is contractually barred from introducing authentic dishes from the places of her ancestors geographical origin. So tonight we just felt like something a little different, exotic maybe. We decided by consensus to go out for a culturally alternative meal and I nominated just the place. One of the individuals I work with is human, and he told me about all the best places to go for authentic cuisine from the region from which his ancestors originated. We went there for lunch one afternoon and it was so agreeable that, if I occupied the region from which his ancestors originated, I'm certain I would exceed the recommendations of the body mass indicator.

On the way, the domestic associate admitted she was a little apprehensive about the neighborhood, due to the more impecunious lifestyle and the resultant tendency for certain individuals to exhibit unexpected behavior. I'm sure it happens in any species, not just humans. When we arrive, there's an attire-coordinated social group in the parking lot and one human asks, "What's up fool?" I don't take offense because I know our dialect of that area and that's just our way of saying, "Hello, can I help you." So I said, "We were hoping to eat here," to which he replied, "they're closed." I thought to myself, "Why would we be closed on Monday?" Then I realize it's Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday. Of course we observe that holiday, he did so much for our people.

Famished by now, we decide to go to Humantown for an authentic human meal. We knew a great place where we usually get a few different dishes and a big bowl of steamed rice and share. And there’s always put a big pot of hot tea on the table. But a funny thing happened. We had just entered Humantown and, like clockwork, this typical human driver comes plowing through the intersection without even looking and nearly hits us. The domestic associate and I just look at each other and say: "DWH! Driving while human!"

Anyway, we get there and our favorite human restaurant has gone out of business. We didn't want to risk another place because the others were a little too authentic. Our place was a more humanized—no surprise mystery meats. Also, this was the only human place with clean bathrooms. So we’re just about to give up, when there, on the side of the road, is one of those family owned food stands. There was a crowd of humans having a grand old time with the traditional human music playing. We had a big barbecue pit and we were chopping up marinated steak and tossing it into hand made corn tortillas.

So we pull over. Everyone is so friendly, the food is delicious and we don't even have to human us down on the price. I don't know how we can sell it so inexpensively. We're just honest hardworking people. Many of us don't even have green cards and are lucky to earn minimum wage, yet somehow we always manage to feed the statistically larger family, by comparison. I wouldn't be my choice to work on our cars on the front lawn but hey, we're humans, that's what we do!


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