Skarfing
Material
with Chef-Boy-Am-I-Hungry
When we left Paul Bunyan, he was deep
in the tropical rain forest, clear-cut logging for
the CIA. Unfortunately, his trusty pal Babe the
Blue Ox, had disappeared...
The sound of heavy machinery floated
from the direction of the Burger Thing pro-
ject and Paul began to feel queasy. He lept
over a few small hills until he was confronted
by a flurry of industrial activity. A low moan
oozed from Paul's chest when he saw the
focus of all the action; six diesel skidders
were growling and straining as they dragged
a huge blue carcass to the Burger Thing
slaughterhouse at the far end of the valley.
Paul was speechless. Babe had been his
sole companion during the years Americans
had ignored his manly deeds and devoted
their imaginations to two-dimensional heros
like James Bond, Mr. T and the Jolly Green
Giant. Now, as soon as Paul and his hooved
helper had finally regained limited but well-
deserved recognition, Babe's life had been.
cut short by gutless scum. These vermin.
were following a classic American principal
that had existed even a century ago when
Paul was in his prime: exploit the resources
of under-priviledged countries in pursuit of
creature comforts and pure profit. Suddenly
Paul was stunned by a crushing realization
-his parent company and the "philan-
thropic" think-tank that had awakened him
were following the same principal..
Paul dragged his axe as he turned and
headed back to base camp. Sure, he could
destroy the slaughterhouse and the people
who had killed Babe, but what good would
it do? The hordes of pitifully underpaid
workers controlled by the Burger Thing com-
pany would just rebuild the whole complex
within weeks. No, Paul had to get to the root
of this screwed up situation: the shapers of
American ideals, that damn think-tank.
Back at base camp, Paul grabbed Cortland
Barrett by the nape of the neck and lifted him
up to eye level. "Listen Barrett, I'm not going
to be your pawn anymore. I'm leaving on the
next flight to Washington DC. and there's
nothing you can do to stop me." Barrett was
limp and whimpering as Paul set him down
and stomped off toward the temporary dirt
airstrip. Two hours later, he was crammed
lengthwise into the belly of a C-5A cargo
plane, en route to Andrews Air Force Base.
The moment he crawled out of the plane,
Paul knew something was amiss. Though his
gargantuan frame towered over all the by-
standers, nobody seemed to notice the plaid
clad passenger. As he walked off the tarmac
toward the interstate, Paul realized that, in-
deed, not a soul on the road was aware of
24
his presence. Obviously,
whatever process the CIA
had used to resurrect Paul
in the Amazon simply
didn't work in the greater
DC area. Perhaps since
there was no need for him
here and he wasn't on
anyone's mind, nobody
could see him. "Well,
that's Jim Dandy by me,"
thought Paul as he trudged along the freeway
divider track. "It'll be that much easier to get
to my conniving creators." A proportionally
tiny scrap of paper was clutched in Paul's
fist. It was his CIA assignment directive form.
co-signed by the "Cross-Conceptual Cele-
brity Think Tank Foundation, 1014 Hayes
Court, Washington, DC."
The burly logger reached 1014 Hayes
Court after half an hour of sidestepping pede
strians, hopping across traffic islands and a
brief wade through the Potomac river. It was
an off-white six story building with an expan-
sive front lawn. Paul saw movement through
a picture window on the fourth floor, so he
sidled up and peered in. Seated around a
meeting table was the strangest looking
group of characters Paul had ever seen.
Since Paul had been in "legend limbo" for
years, he didn't recognize the likes of Han-
nibal Smith, Oscar Goldman, Mr. Ed, Wile
E. Coyote, Judge Wopner, M, Quincy, and Mr.
Wizard. What Paul did recognize were the
giant blue horns mounted on the far wall. At
that moment, a crew of waiters wheeled in
five steaming carts, laden with...
OXY POUR-ONS
• 2 tbsp butter
½ cup each: chopped onion, celery, green
pepper
1½ lbs ground ox (or beef)
½ cup chopped mushrooms
■1 small can tomato paste
• 2 tbsp chill powder
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• ¼ cup water
• 6 hamburger buns
Cook the onion, celery and pepper in the
butter (medium heat) until the onion turns
clear. then add the meat. Blue-oops-
brown the meat, then drain off all that gnarly
saturated fat. Add the rest of the ingredients
and stir till you're blue in the face. Let this
fragrant mire simmer for at least fifteen
minutes or until it reaches your desired
degree of thickness, then ladle it out onto
some toasted burger buns. (Recipe-Victor
Penalosa, Imperial Beach, CA)
DIRTY MONEY BONANZA
•1 large or 2 small bunches spinach
•1 blue-oops-red onion, quartered, then
finely chopped.
⚫12 pitted blue-sorry-black olives (from
a dell, not from a can)
1 cup crumbled feta (or blue!) cheese
⚫ crushed fresh mint leaves (if available)
• 2 tbsp bacon bits (optional)
• 2 tbsp vinegar
⚫ black pepper
4 tbsp olive oil
Spinach is just like dirty money-it has to
be laundered, and you always lose some in
the process. Wash those leaves thoroughly.
dry 'em, tear 'em into silver dol-
lar-size sections and throw 'em
into a big bowl. Now chuck in all
the other ingredients except the
olive oil. Heat that there oil
(medium flame) till it almost
smokes, then pour it all over
your blues-uhh-greens. Toss
it and nosh it, kids. (Recipe -
Bung Dabba, Fort Wayne, IN)
NOTE: The above recipes
should be served with Berry-
Blue Kool-Aid.
Paul's saga will be continued
next issue.
THINK ABOUT IT
Look spit-sharp in a
new Shark Taco t-shirt.
Send $10.25 (postage
and handling included)
10: THRASHER, Shark
Taco T-shirt, PO Box
884570, San Francisco
CA 94188-4570
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