Mango Salsa Pants

As fond as I have become of C.M. Redding's food columns, I do have a bone to pick. Why "Forking"? I understood the allusion behind "Spooning", but if "forking" is some modern urban slang, I probably don't want to understand the reference. Or did some AI program (possibly the same one which selects names for the rock bands appearing in New Times' concert ads) select "Forking" as the latest variation? If the column should ever change its name to Knifing, I warn you, you're going to lose a reader. Mangos are a nice choice. In the lyrics of Michael Franks, "the guava can be bittersweet but the mango's always good to eat". I really liked the line "If you can't get a girl by dancing, then create some salsa in the kitchen". But I'm afraid that the bit where you said "Towel over shoulder, flare of the flashing knife, date at the table watching you..." reminded me of bad Hemingway. The protagonist in The Sun Also Rises made bull-fighting a metaphor for sexual prowess, but he'd also had a wiener accident in the war: no wonder he was prone to heavy-handed sublimation. I wonder if there's a job with the Mango Lobby for Mr. Redding. Avacados had their own billboard campaign not long ago. Perhaps Mr. Redding could create a video called Dancing on the Ceiling (with the Lionel Richie song of the same name as musical accompaniment), showing a bored couple lying in bed, who, after sharing a mango, levitate up to the ceiling (still discretely sheeted), where their sinuous gyrations to the music speak for themselves. Of course, it would have to be handled properly, directorially, otherwise it might end up looking creepy, like a porno version of Exorcist III. Speaking of which, it's official: Bob Dylan is creeping me out. Take a look at that photo on page 63 of Phoenix New Times. Between that pencil mustache, that ghastly pale skin, those rheumy yet sinister eyes, and those arched brows, he's beginning to look an awful lot like Vincent Price on a bad hair day. And what's that he's got in his hand? Looks like the handle of Barnabas Collins' walking stick. Crikey, Bob, the answer is blowin' in the wind: professional image consulting. OK, getting back to M.C. Redding's column (I refuse to call it Forking), he may see tragically beautiful mangos when he feeds his head, but I'd probably see Bizarro Santa from the Electroid Dimension, which is why I avoid that stuff. I don't know if you're familiar with that episode of Space Ghost Coast To Coast (Girl Hair), but my guess is that it doesn't pair well with mushrooms.