Relaxed Cows

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just your everyday joint to the local grocery store

Submitted: December 20, 2015

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Submitted: December 20, 2015

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The Year has almost ended, but we are still here.  Like sugar plums, ideas for this year’s Christmas letter have dissolved.  Speaking of sugar plums, I was hanging out near the dairy case of the local toxic grocery store, and I picked up a package of butter.I needed to find out if it was without hormones, antibiotics, BPH, and if it was organic.  What to my wondering eyes did appear, in small print,was this disclaimer:

“The cows that produced this milk, to make this butter, are relaxed “  Of all the cows I have seen in my meandering life, I don’t remember seeing an agitated cow.  No bovines picketing for a more restful pasture, except for Chik-fil-A.  As I read further on the package it states that when cows listened to music on the radio, the butter was better because of the Easy Listening Channel.  No Rock and Roll for these moos.  I glanced at the lady standing next to me and asked “Did she know that this butter was from a relaxed cow tuning in to the Easy Listening Channel?”  She gave me that sidelong look and slipped away, but still kept an eye on me.  I started to pick up other packages to see what other cows were up to.  Not a word about their moods or psychoses.  Decision time!  There was no organic label on the package with the Easy Listening, so I went for the organic.  Our daughter is a wellness coach and I could hear her voice nudging me the right way.  In fact she would have had her entire family patting me on the back. Yea! Mom has seen the light and now the long haul to train Dad.

I proceeded down the aisle.  I came across the grass feed beef, but don’t know what they listen to, so I proceed to shrimp.  I bend over to read where these creatures were brought up.  Oh oh, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, a proverbial minefield.  I have visited the shrimp farms in Malaysia and they aren’t playing underwater Nemo tunes.  They are dumping stuff; you name it, into those ponds.  I look down and all I see in my basket is butter that isn’t even relaxed.  What’s for dinner let alone the holiday festivities? I hit the bakery next and whoa!  I can’t even pronounce the ingredients on the packages and I took two years of Latin in school.  Stay away, it calls into my cerebellum. As I head toward the front of the store, I grab a bottle of vodka made from organic potatoes, hit the poinsettia station, and proceed to checkout.  I usually look into other peoples’ baskets and wonder what in the world they are going to make with their items. Now my basket yells “Nut-O!”

I am going to go home, pour myself a drink, stare at my Christmas plant and smear butter on my face and arms.  I hit the Easy Listening Channel and on comes the soothing sounds of the Holiday Season. Time for me to be put out to pasture.


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