Dear Goldberg,
Whoa! A dual gastrointestinal event of Richter proportions! How did you know that I love talking about intestinal distress? Especially the rusty gutbucket version caused by food poisoning. While visiting Seattle over Thanksgiving, I wolfed a chunk of what turned out to be incredibly ripe salmon, possibly shot through with vibrio vulnificus, a vicious bacteria that can kill you if your immune system is compromised or you’re already almost dead. (Other things that can kill you if you’re already almost dead: a 44-magnum bullet to the head; head-on motorcycle collision; hand grenade ingestion.)
I’ll avoid graphic descriptions of my illness out of respect for our readers, but I nearly passed out in the bathroom and ended up in a sweating heap on the cold tile floor. I could hear my muscle tissues separating from my skeleton. It was like an acid trip.
You just made me promise over the phone that I would avoid mentioning any food because just the thought of eating disgusts. In the interest of goading you, our theme of the week, I must abandon that pledge. So here goes: mash potatoes and gravy; orange Popsicles; chocolate malt balls; Pepperidge Farm Mint Milano cookies; Sierra Nevada Pale Ale; Sweet Tarts; Easter Peeps. Are you spewing yet? Dry heaves, maybe?
While we’re on the subject of stomachquakes–come to think of it, Lynne Cheney’s Secret Service detail would have to gang-tackle me to remove me from the subject–did you see medical paranoid Jane E. Brody’s Tuesday New York Times Health section screed about when good food goes bad? Brody drags all the biological culprits in for a lineup: escherichia coli o157:h7, listeria monocytogenes, salmonella, norwalk and norwalklike viruses, campylobacter jejuni, and our good friend vibrio vulnificus. You told me over the phone that you think the disease vectors that you call your children might have given you the flu. But I’m guessing that Miss Pamela, your fetching bride, Pamela, slipped you a bacteria cocktail in your meatloaf last night. Send the entire meal to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for bioanalysis.
Or, stave off sickness by sandblasting your cutting board. Medical paranoid Brody alleged last month that a single clean cutting board is not enough to ward off food contamination. You must maintain two cutting boards, one for meat and one for everything else. “Wash under rings and fingernails; use a nail brush if necessary.” She continues:
While millions of consumers worry about pesticide residues and additives in foods, the real hazards lie in microbial contamination and improper food handling, especially in the home.
The rest of the article reads like a science project: Consume poultry only after it has been bombarded with 1.5 million rads of gamma radiation; wash your hands in sulphuric acid after going to the bathroom; cook both beef and pork to a flaky, dark crust; eat your meals with sterilized dental instruments.
Brody means well, but I’m afraid that she doesn’t understand that the human organism was built to live in a toxic environment. Most people learn that we are not delicate flowers when they have children. They quickly abandon their cleanliness phobias and start feeding their children the food that they’ve thrown on the floor. Come to think of it, wouldn’t that be a great science project? Mother Goldberg serves an entire meal on the kitchen floor, and her husband and three children lap it up like dogs. Do they get sick or not?
You threatened over the phone that you might be too sick to continue with this “Breakfast Table.” If that’s the case, you have my sympathy. But can your fetching bride, Pamela, finish the correspondence if you retire to the permanently disabled list?
Get well. But not too well. I like hitting a guy when he’s down.
Love,
Jack
