Posted on 02/26/2011 1:38:34 PM PST by Squawk 8888
I’m not the wiener peeler, I’m the wiener peeler’s son, And I’m only peeling wieners, ‘Til the wiener peeler comes.
I apologize to pheasant pluckers’ sons everywhere for stealing their tongue-twister.
But who can resist when my Internet fairy, Irene, drops this job ad on my desk? “Get out your resume,” she purrs.
I pause in processing Moonlight Lady submissions, and take a boo.
“Full-time Wiener Peeler,” says the ad.
Wazzat? I ask. A red-hot stripper?
“No. As in weenie. It’s got you written all over it, ” says Irene, and she flutters off.
Well, I’m getting sick of grinding out daily columns like hamburger. So I read on.
“Opportunity. Excitement. Teamwork. Respect.
“At Maple Leaf Foods we are committed to attracting, rewarding and retaining talented people who are passionate about making a positive impact in their professional and personal lives every day.”
A noble mission. What better way to pursue it than as a bona fide full-time professional wiener peeler. The opening is at Maple Leafs’ hotdog plant in Hamilton.
Imagine the awe when you tell fellow partiers your occupation.
Picture the lineup of schools recruiting for career days.
The teachers may giggle, but the kids will scream for free samples.
You’re on Price Is Right and Drew Carey says, “What d’ya do for a living up in Canada, Mikey?”
I peel wieners, Drew.
“Good for you. Wiener peeler. Hmmm. reminds me, folks, get your pets spayed or neutered.”
Anyway, I check around and find yet another job opening at Maple Leaf. Wiener stuffer. Hit it ...
I’m not the wiener stuffer
I’m the wiener stuffer’s son
I’m only stuffing ...
(Ed. note: Stop that, you hotdogger, or we’ll make you pose for a picture like Gilles Duceppe in the silly hairnet.)
NO! Not that! I’ll do anything, boss.
The photo of Duceppe in a cheese factory was a body blow to the Bloc. He looked like a weenie. Un chien chaud. Un hotdog.
I wonder. How do wiener peelers and stuffers look? All dressed?
I call Linda Smith at Maple Leaf Foods and ask: What company wit came up with those job titles?
“They’re in the union contract,” she says. “They’re really a kind of food-processing operator.”
So machines do the actual stuffing and peeling. Thank God. I can’t imagine sitting there all day, fingers numb, going, “hundred thousand and one weenies, hundred thousand and two weenies, hundred thousand and ...”
The wiener stuffer fills the tubular collagen casings with hot dog sludge. Since you asked, the ooze typically comprises mechanically separated chicken, pork, beef, water, wheat gluten, salt, sodium phosphate, spice, dextrose, corn syrup solids, sodium erythorbate, garlic powder, onion powder, sodium nitrite and smoke.
If you need to ask what mechanically separated chicken is, don’t.
Or go eat a veggie burger.
Once the dogs have been divided and smoked and solidified, the wiener peeler removes the casings.
The stuffer and peeler look like hazmat officials or Apollo astronauts.
They wear blue rubber and plastic head to toe, with hairnet, hardhats and mask. Plus earmuffs. Yes. All those dogs barking.
The hirings, says Smith, are to gear up for summer, when 60% of wieners are sold.
What a great job, eh?
I assume you get to take home any bent, twisted or otherwise defective wieners.
And you’d be in the pantheon of careers with chicken sexer, pet food tester, bounty hunter, odor reader, fortune cookie writer, golf ball diver and newspaper hack.
Plus, you’re wrapped in a soft, warm union. The Brotherhood of Bun Fillers (BBF), or whatever it’s called.
I can picture the negotiations:
“We want a raise, a longer lunch, three weeks holiday, dental coverage and pension improvements.
“But hold the mustard.”
James will be thrilled.
We were going to go to Mass at 11, just because, but when we (me, Tom, Sally, and 4 byos) got there, a funeral was about to start, and the kids weren’t dressed for funeral attendance. Oh, well.
When DP gets home from his interview, we’ll go to Sears and pick up Tom’s new glasses, and then to the fitness center. I don’t want to lift weights, because my arms still hurt from Tuesday. I think I’ll go swimming. That way James and Vlad can go; an adult (16 or older) has to be there with them.
I stopped at the store to get a can of beer to help quell the nausea, and the gal at the checkout said she just loved St. Patrick’s Day. She had given up a son years ago, and he had gone to Ireland several years ago and met a Protestent minister (?) who told him he needed to find his birth mother.
Three years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, the son called her. What an awesome story!! Come to find out, he is his father’s only child. I was glad I was there for her to share that story with. :o])
I just put James’ card in the mail. He should have it Saturday.
Today is also my daughter-on-law’s birthday, and yesterday was my late sister’s birthday. Would have been 87.
Any news on the MD front?
Busy day so i won't be around much until evening.
Back from swimming. I may be sore tomorrow.
Now I need to call the Cubmaster to find out if he’s going to teach “Leave No Trace” to my den tonight.
Nope. No news. I spoke to my friend three weeks ago (he had custody of MD) and also to the bishop and they both said they would “get together” and get MD towed to wherever.
Nothing since.
I’d rather climb into a truck than have to sit with my backside on the asphalt. (Is that why they call it “assfault?”)
I’ve almost given up hope on that. The next thing is getting into court. I can do that very soon. The sooner I do it, the sooner I can TRY to get financing for a “new” truck.
Do you enjoy physical punishment? Or is it, “No pain, no gain?” Never mind. I realize some of us have to stress ourselves physically in order to relax mentally.
I just wish I had the stamina to do what you do. :o]
You ROCK!
I swam a little over a mile. Now I have rings under my eyes because the goggles were too tight. I’ll have to put concealer on before Cub Scouts!
Tom mowed the front lawn this morning. Maybe he can do the back tomorrow.
I love swimming, actually. I just don’t want to go beyond my back yard for the pleasure.
How are Tom’s new glasses? Was there much change in his prescription?
Oooohhh...I haven’t had a boiled dinner since way before my son was born! That’s an invitation I would love to keep!!
NNB is sitting on a gold mine, for sure...
It's an easy dinner to pop in the crockpot. We generally have it on Sunday for that reason but in honor of the day I decided to make one along with some soda bread.
Not sitting on nothing. I built the spherical elevator cars and the tubular connection system, didn't I? Three continents, five minutes; what's the problem?
Of course, if you have to have teleportation, that isn't really a problem, either. Just teleport the dinner.
I recall my late ex-MIL spending lots of time with the boiled dinner, which I had never had prior to 1961. It was an awesome meal, but I’ve never perfected it.
Soda bread is almost as good as sourdough. I can eat them both with lots of butter. What a deal!
Too bad I’m not independently wealthy and have my own jet. Or, at the least, can afford to fly where I want, when I want. *sigh*
Bob. I need the hugs. They come along with dinner. How can you teleport a hug?
See my short story, At The AIport. (Link at my homepage too.)
The hugs feel real enough. Kisses are not recommended, though.
*jeeze*
When was the last time I saw 49,000+ posts??
I don’t want to swap spit with the gal...just let her know she’s appreciated.
*groan*
With a long-distance robot, you can tend to the cooking, and even trade hugs.
I can foresee the possibility that these will become household items. You could have a maid come by, (telerobotically).
Also, get your meals prepared, have a nurse visit and take vital measurements, get the plumber to fix a leaky faucet without having to put up with any cracks, wise or otherwise.
You could have visits from friends, but this might depend on having a variable robot of some kind.
A middle-school kid is attending school telerobotically. The robot looks more like a teletubby than a kid, but what the heck.
And one other advantage of this potential technology is that if you have a useful skill that can be transmitted in this fashion, you can go to work almost any time you want to!
One corned beef
Potatoes
Cabbage
Onion
Turnips
Pickling spice (Yes I cheat)
Water
Toss in crock-pot in the morning, turned to low and let cook until dinner time.
Add a small splash of apple cider vinegar then let cook another five minutes.
Yum!
I remember! If ever I get to visit, I’ll expect at least one boiled dinner! (My mouth wants it!)
Yum!
Erm...sorry, Bob, but I’m too old to let telerobotics into my hum-drum life. Talk to my kids. I’m sure their kids will respond favorably...
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