Or, As Homer Simpson Would Say, MMM, Fatty Trimmings

I've been daydreaming about hamburgers, burned on the outside, rare in the middle with a fried egg topper. According to the New York Times, that's not a menu, it's a suicide note. By the way, if you don't want to click on the link and read the whole article, here's a salient quote:

...confidential grinding logs and other Cargill records show that the hamburgers were made from a mix of slaughterhouse trimmings and a mash-like product derived from scraps that were ground together at a plant in Wisconsin. The ingredients came from slaughterhouses in Nebraska, Texas and Uruguay, and from a South Dakota company that processes fatty trimmings and treats them with ammonia to kill bacteria.

By the way, does the Nobel Peace Prize mean anything anymore? Well, not much since Yasser Arafat (“Peace for us means the destruction of Israel. We are preparing for an all-out war, a war which will last for generations.”) got it, and then Al Gore for his massive hot air on global warming. But at least Al Gore had done something when he invented the internet. If the President got it for making speeches about peace, then using Walt Kelly's logic, a lot of us should be in the running next year.