So God Made A Meatloaf

And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a tasty meal, easy to prepare, with or without an actual recipe”.

God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, grind up cows into beef, work all day in the kitchen, chop up vegetables, make supper, then go to town and get the things they forgot for the recipe.”

“I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle up a loaf pan and yet gentle enough to finely mince assorted vegetables; somebody to consider adding some hog meat, tame cantankerous cooking times, come home hungry, have to wait on lunch until his wife’s done fixing the sides, then tell the kids they’re going to eat this meal like it or not — and mean it”

God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with indigestion,  and feel like he’s gonna die, then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next time I make it I’ll be able to digest it.’ I need somebody who can shape a toothpick from a persimmon sprout, wash a pan with a hunk of car tire, who can make leftovers out of haywire, feed sacks, shoe scraps and gravy; who, football time and playoff season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, and then pain’n from La-Z-Boy recliner back, put in another seventy-two hours of sports gambling”

So God Made A Meatloaf (with apologies to Paul Harvey and the FFA)

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