Bacon, Bacon, Bacon!

Sweet, delicious bacon-hearts!
I love you, bacon!

Now don’t get me wrong: like many people, the thought of surviving on bacon alone sends my taste buds into paroxysms of delight. But, if I had to pick a food that represents all evil in the world, bacon surely is it.

Gone are the halcyon days when bacon was considered the sartorial equivalent of  a silk cravat. In yesteryear (I heard an old man use that term once, though, to be clear, he smelled of pipe tobacco and dried wood glue…) waking up to the smell of bacon meant family breakfast. A trickle of footsteps made it’s way down the squeaky stairs to a worn kitchen table bedecked in a frayed and crumb-covered tablecloth. A cozy family, ready to share bleary-eyed moments full of unkempt hair and clattering forks scraping the last bits of breakfast residue off their plates. And, always, that inevitable moment where bacon and simple math come to a head: 5 people, 12 slices, uh-oh!

Now, transformed from a cravat to a fresh package of clean socks, you can do anything with these precious slivers of pork belly! In fact, apparently, national strategic bacon reserves are at an all time low!

Bacon Crate!
It’s healthier in bulk!

How could this happen? What lucky cad or cadre is consuming bacon by the crate? Are we finally using our nations fourteenth most precious resource to effect real change? I mean, we could be showering it on malnourished people, their taut skin slick with porcine drippings, or using it as a protective layer for the Great Barrier Reef, or maybe trading it to Coca-Cola to release their treasure trove of stolen water rights back to the scattered trail of thirsty, indigenous people they have left around the globe. We sent a man to the moon, surely respecting bacon is within our grasp…right?

Perhaps it is…but instead we did this:

Fuck you bacon! You’re not fun anymore!