Grit-O-Nomicon

Grits. Everyday on the way to work, I go through the Krystal drive-thru and pick up a bucket of diet Coke and a scrambler con no huevo. A scrambler is mostly a big bucket of grits, with sausage and more butter than a little bit. Growing up southern I have eaten my share of grits over the years. Me and grits understand one another. Although I realize that many people will never reach the spiritual level needed to "be the grit", I feel that I have attained "grit enlightenment". I very may well be the Grit Dalai Lama. Two things in my life have really horrified me: 1) Watching the twin towers fall and 2) watching a yankee pour sugar on his grits. Let me make this plain and clear: GRITS ARE NOT FREAKING OATMEAL ! Grits are made of CORN ! You don't put sugar on corn, why would you put it on grits. I am also amazed at how many resturants that have grits on the menu do not know how to make them. More often than not I get a soupy bowl of meal instead of the a nice thick mealy concrete that you can eat with a fork. Once again, let me make a point: GRITS ARE NOT SOUP ! Any person that needs to eat grits with a spoon, needs to send that bowl of hell back from where it came. Also, I often hear people complain that grits have no flavor, that they are too plain. Well, yeah dumbass, you have to add butter, and cheese, and salt and pepper for starters. You just don't sit down to a plate full of iceburg lettuce and say, "I really did not like this salad, it was too plain". You put your favorite dressing on it, bacon bits, croutons and the list goes on and on and on. I guess by now the reader can guess that I like grits. Grits are good and wholesome, like big tits in your face or sunshine. I truly believe that you could take an evil thing, let's say....(a gilligan's hat on your favorite stripper), pour some grits on it, and somehow make it a little better. Yankees may never understand grits, that is sad, but okay with me. They seem to have superior sandwich making abilities and have taken the hotdog to levels far beyond the comprehension of those of us below the Mason-Dixon line. Without my daily dose of grits I would not have the mustard to step out into my dull and eventless life and shout, "I am here again, do your best to bore me!" Everyone knows the "Footsteps in the Sand" poem where Jesus carries the sinner through the tough parts of his life. Well, I believe in my life, grits helped too.