Today we're examining the Spork.
A few weeks ago, I dragged my family through a Popeye's drive through. Never had Popeye's before. But it wasn't bad. Well, the chicken wasn't bad. I didn't care for the slaw or the mashed potatoes. The gravy smelled the hallway of a Comfort Inn. Or crotch. Those two smells are kind of interchangeable.
The chicken was crispier than I normally like. But I didn't feel dirty after I finished eating it. No unspeakable, conscience-weighing guilt. In other words, we're still Baptists.
Popeye's gave us sporks. I love the spork. LOVE it. It's the perfect eating utensil for many occasions. A clever combination of fork and spoon. Proof that inter-racial marriages can work. The spork was built for a stew or hearty soup. Every time Mrs. Z serves stew or pot pie, she'll ask if I want a fork or spoon. Sometimes, I'll say, "both," because really, you need both for stew or pot pie. Then I feel bad that she'll have to wash both after wards. Frequently, I'll pick one and spend the entire meal wishing I had chosen the other one.
It's sad really: that a stew can cause such buyer's remorse.
Enter the spork.
The spork was the best part of my public school education. I don't think we had forks at all in elementary school. Or middle school either. We sporked our spaghetti. Sporked the corn. Sporked the peas. I know for a fact I sporked the cake. When I wasn't shoveling it in by hand. I cannot say whether I ever sporked the tots.
So I'm left to wonder: am I the only one who loves him the Spork? I must be in the minority, because I don't believe I've ever seen a spork in silver ware. We certainly don't have any silver sporks. But we should.
And if they made a set, I'd buy it.
This isn't like wanting a calculator in my watch. Another brilliant idea which manifested itself during my middle school years but which I outgrew. I have a calculator in my phone now. My Garmin, too come to think of it. I have no real need for one in my watch.
But I can still use the Spork. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have to go to a fast food restaurant to get a spork. Alabama would have both an offense and a defense. President Obama wouldn't raise taxes on the so-called rich (which we know won't raise revenue but instead reduce it). Michael Vick would have to get a real job and Disney would return to cleaning its hotel rooms with both a vaccum and bleach products. My own blog wouldn't give me agita sometimes for no reason at all. Little Debbie wouldn't be such a temptress and the Cartographers for Social Equality would be taken more seriously.