Bad jokes

Tom had a guest over for dinner a couple of nights ago. Scott had been a chef before he went back to college, and Tom was explaining why he was grilling pork chops: he and I are trying to do what the doctor advised by moving onto a low glycemic diet. That mean, among other things, limiting red meat. I don't care for fish, although the diet folks would love me to eat that all the time. Shellfish is also permitted -- Tom is a big shrimp fan , by which I mean a big fan of shrimp, although I suppose he is a fan of big shrimp (oxymoron?) as well. But I sometimes have a bad reaction to shellfish (the good old Dodd gout, I suppose); so shellfish is not a great option. That leaves chicken and pork much of the time.

"Or, as Michael says," Tom told Scott, "cat -- the other white meat."

Well, that is obviously not original with me. Here is proof, but you can find lots of other examples on your own:

I did make one bad joke about eating cats, though, on the bookmobile last year. We were at Neenah Creek School helping the kids find books. One little girl said she wanted a book about cats.

"Do you have a cat?" I asked her.

"No," she shook her head. "But I like cats."

I nodded. "I do, too! I like them fried."

Her eyes got huge for a second and then she laughed.

Kathie Holly, on the other hand, was horrified that I would tell that to a child. Of course, Kathie is also on the board for the local animal shelter. (And knows full well that we have Sundance and Cassidy and love them very much.)