There really is nothing to beat Mother Nature's own pork chop, is there?
Your pork chop is a dish best enjoyed alone, I always feel. It is only when alone that one can truly do justice to this meaty treat, requiring as it does to be picked up and picked at with expert, probing teeth and fingers. You need to suck on its bones and angle it to get at the sweetest, juiciest meat that resists the attentions of the knife and fork.
There is a certain primal thrill to this, a harking back to simpler caveman times that gives the feeling that had one been born in an earlier age one would have been a devil of a fellow with a bow and arrow or a club when it came to the hunting and gathering lifestyle.
Of course our caveman ancestors didn't eat their brontosaurus flesh with a piquant tomato and pesto sauce with mushrooms, olives and peppers in it, but I'm sure you see my point.
I know there are vegetarian folk out there who would not share my enthusiasm for this king among foodstuffs, but frankly these people are fools and ninnies. Life is a bothersome enough business, with a hundred and one sorrows and catastrophes happening around us each day. And what are these addle-pated nincompoops spending their precious lives worrying about? "Aw, the poor piggies and moo cows are going to die. Tubbyboohoo for the lovely ickle animals."
To quote American rapper Ice Cube, "Fuck 'em". They're only animals after all, and they're tasty.
Perhaps the time is not right for my candid views on the joys of eating baby flesh just yet, though. Although they are delicious, there are a great number of politically-correct, looney-leftie types who insist that they are technically human beings and there is somehow something wrong in feasting on their tender, succulent meat.
The weirdy-beardy, mung bean-chomping, sandal-wearing, long hair-having freaks.
Keep yourself nice. Adieu.