“The whole porno pot roast is just a, how you say, an urban legend. Oui? Bon. So, yes, I’ve been a butcher for forty years. Forty years. Tabernacle! That’s a, beaucoup du viande, eh, en masse du boeuf, or, eh, how you say, a shit lot of meat. Oui? Mais, any way you cut it I’ve never come across such a thing as a pornographic pot roast. I’m not even sure what the hell it is supposed to be? Bien sur, I’ve seen a meatloaf that looked like a girl I once loved a long, long time ago. The meatloaf, ah, she was real tender and how you say, juicy, just like my Jeannine from Deux Rivieres. Mais, that was a long time ago. She was, how you say, a real fox. Oui?”
It was unclear whether it was his precious Jeannine or the meatloaf that was the real fox. But the high national numbers are too difficult to dismiss outright so Mississippi Gary spoke with local meat folklorist Janet Goldman, a somewhat authority on all sorts of stuff who runs a successful bookstore. Jane says: “Yes,
there are certainly countless documented incidents of family gatherings ruined by pornographic pot roasts going as far back as 1976. With the advent of the Polaroid instant camera, a picture is worth a thousand words.”
Janet produced a bulking photo album, stuffed so full it only partially closed. Flipping through were picture after picture of pornographic pot roasts. “I told you,” Jane said.“This one looks like Angelina Joli or maybe Sara Palin”
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