Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#016 In which our hero has a problem with George Foreman.

I have problems with people. Sometimes things, too, but mostly people. I don't mean in a socially withdrawn sort of way (I'm quite social, I think) but with particular people, at particular times. And right now, at this instant, I have a problem with George Foreman.

This problem was prompted by me stumbling across an image of the accursed George Foreman Grill while I was surfing. I hate this thing. Hate it! And it's probably unfair to direct my ire at George, he seems like a nice enough fellow, and is just trying to make a buck. But, it is his name on the infernal burger cooker, so he gets to be the goat.

On a much broader scale, I have a problem with people who say they can't cook. This, of course, is ridiculous. Everyone can cook, to some degree. Now, if you tell me you don't like to cook, well, that's something different altogether. I don't like to clean the gutters, but I can if I have to. If I were to try to tell my wife that I can't clean the gutters; that I'm unable to clean the gutters... well, shortly thereafter I'd still be cleaning the gutters.

My problem with the slanted sandwich maker of scorn is that people that say they can't cook seem to be drawn to the damn thing. MBT, friend of mine, says he can't cook. Far as I can tell he lives almost exclusively on take-out pizza, Doritos and beer. And it's not like the guy is 20, he's in his thirties, a legally-recognized adult! But he "can't" cook and for the sake of argument I'll concede the point. So one day I come over to his house and he has bought one of these meat-searers of shite and has it proudly displayed on his kitchen counter.
ME: What the fuck is this?
MBT: George Foreman Grill, baby!
ME: And you think you're actually going to cook with this thing?
MBT: Hell, yeah! Just last night I made the best burgers ever!
His argument falls flat in that they were the only burgers he's made ever.

Since this was a couple of years ago, I emailed MBT to see what his Forman grillin' status is. Our entire exchange went thusly:
ME: You still using that George Foreman Grill?
MBT: Nah, I lost that in one of my many divorces. Why?
Hmm... he must have gone halfsies with some past girlfriend. This answer wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped.

Looking for more evidence that this thing is junk I visited to check out their customer reviews of the George Foreman counter-top crap machine.

It would appear that most people love it.

Bah, my righteous indignation has never been calmed by facts or reality in the past, and it certainly won't be today! The George Foreman dripping grease device is obviously only used by dullards that can't be bothered to use a real grill or light the oven. And the named one has to shoulder the blame.

Today, I have a problem with you, George Foreman!


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