September 20, 2009
Tom Waits – Chocolate Jesus
“I’ve discovered something that’s a candy item, it’s actually a kind of immaculate confection. There’s a cross on one side and there’s a bible inscription on the other, you put it in your mouth and when it’s gone you can get up and leave.”
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Reckon there is a market for a liquorice Jesus?
Sure. There was a market for Daniel Craig ice lollies. Or so someone thought.
Sheila, do you think that might make him blacker than most could handle? I mean, a chocolate Jesus is a happy compromise – personally, I’d be very attracted to him if he were liquorice!
A liquorice Jesus might appeal to a niche market.
How about a gummi Jesus? A marzipan Jesus?
Red Hot Atomic Fireball Jesus?
Pocky Jesus?
We could each have our own personal confectionary Jesus.
I have a friend who makes chocolate Michael Jacksons.
Lucy, I hope with white chocolate?
MJ on Stick and in a Box. Comes in Dark, Milk, White or Pink Chocolate. He’s actually a very good painter.
This reminds me that I must write a memo to all Internet radio stations to advise that certain Michael Jackson songs be removed from their play lists. I was at my dentist’s office this week and the hygienist was poking around my mouth with a pointy instrument when “Ben” suddenly came on the sound system. Of course, I burst out laughing, causing the pointy instrument to point itself right into my fleshy cheek. That didn’t stop the laughter, but I can’t expect everyone to be as tough-mouthed as I am. We must think of the children.
Oh, but there is a place for the ludicrous in the dentist’s office, don’t you think?
In fact, it may be one of premier homes of the ludicrous by virtue of the relation between dentist and patient.
A friend of mine had a memorable encounter with her dentist.
And I have an upcoming appointment with a dentist who has a prominent role in a community theater production of “The Full Monty”.
Every time I go to the dentist, they’re discussing politics. It’s like a current affairs programme, but viewed from underneath. With them staring into your mouth. I try to interject, but we all know how that goes.
You should come see my Chicago dentist when you are in the States, Lucy. (He is not the Full Monty Dentist I will be seeing out here in the back of beyond.) He is an Italian-American Brooklyn boy who was in a soul band back in the wayback days.
And he is a really good dentist.
Does he shoobydoowah and pirouette while the nurse is sucking the saliva from your gums with her tube?
He does sometimes sing.
The fake tooth he made for me is the most beautiful thing.
There comes a time when everyone with whom I feel that I share a rapport is forced to look at it.
Forewarned is forearmed.
What, you bite people’s forearms with it? What?
Well, my dentist is from Jamaica. He is the Usain Bolt of dentists. We laugh ourselves silly every time we see each other.
No, Lucy! I just ask people to gaze into my mouth and view a fake molar with something approaching awe.
Perhaps I should photograph it and post the photo, thereby saving a certain discomfort, though not eliminating the mutual embarrassment altogether.
I was recently at the dentist and was aware that I hadn’t had treatment in a few years. I thought it was about 10, but, when I enquired with my dentist she said I hadn’t had any work done since 1987 – smug or what!
My mouth is an architectural wonder of root canals and crowns — and a fake tooth on a titanium spike implanted in my jaw!
But I do still have all my wisdom teeth.
Well, you have all heard the circumstances surrounding my wisdom teeth being extracted – I blush at the thought!
Which brings us full circle to dentistry and the ‘full monty’.
The Lord has a big molar crown waiting for me in Heaven.
Crap, I just wrote the best comment and lost it. I’ll try again in a few when I can get out on the patio.
Oh, Rick, I feel your pain. That has happened to me. I have begun to safeguard against it ’cause I hate to deprive y’all of my brilliancies.
I don’t mean “best comment” just “best comment I’ve made in a while.”
I generally use psychic writing to avoid such things
Lucy, your friend’s MJ Heads in a Box is the best. And I love the advisory: “Box will Include varying shades of wax.”
Earlier today a bee had its proboscis stuck in the neck of the mousehead that remained from my cat Lena’s last kill. It was sucking the good stuff she left behind.
The good stuff was red, like the tinted sugar water you put in your hummingbird feeder.
I’ve been one of the unfortunate few who never got wisdom teeth, Phil (probably explains why I’m not…well…as wise as I might be). So no wisdom-tooth-extraction-story to tell. But I do see the dentist (or really two dentists each six-months apart, alternating every three months) four times a year for cleanings and occasional other shenanigans. In 1990 I had sore gums after not seeing a dentist for 17 years. Was diagnosed with periodontal disease. Had deep cleanings, later gum surgeries. (I can now lie in a dentist’s chair nearly unfazed by any pointy thing that comes into my peripheral vision as I lie there. Sometimes I even nap if the dental technician isn’t too chatty.) Back then, I was born-again. I became a religious flosser. Every day I conduct the ablution. (Well, nearly everyday, once in a while, I skip.) By virtue of one of these surgeries, I now have a gap near the gums of molars 15 and 16 (upper left, back) big enough to stick my tongue into. Big enough to stuff an entire chocolate jesus and it will stay there until I floss it out. Usually, I just carry a pot-roast in there in case one day, for some reason, I have to skip lunch.
That is very sensible.
Ah, Lucy, but is it wise?
(Most of the time, I’m sensible. I would so like to be wise.)
Well I don’t know Rick, but I could imagine that there would be situations when carrying around a pot roast in a space in your head the size of a molar, might be considered wise.
Even sociable.
I could share! In the event of apocalypse or some such?
Sort of a Loaves and Fishes sort of thing?
Sure, Rick. You can be the Pot Roast Jesus.
Rick, your story brought me out in a cold sweat, but, I do like the idea of a pot roast Jesus!
I have enough room back there behind my wisdom teeth for a whole ‘nuther set of wisdom teeth.
Pot Roast Jesus. Chicken-Fried Steak Jesus. Three-Bean Salad Jesus. Seven-Layer Salad Jesus. Green Bean Casserole Jesus. Texas Toast Jesus. Sun Tea Jesus. Red Velvet Cake Jesus. Finger Jell-O Jesus. Lemon Chiffon Jesus.
That Jesus gets around. TRANSUBSTANTIATION LIVES!
Don’t go to the dentist–can’t stand the leaning tit press.
Oh yeah, along the lines of the edible Jesus: I want to find a way to produce and market a miniscule bit of digital memory that may be put in a capsule and swallowed. Contents of the capsule? The entire New Testament.
Daryl
There’s a whole bunch of people who’d buy that.
Deron
For the record, I did not make Sheila say, “Lemon Chiffon Jesus.”
neither dessert nor jesus.
When my son was 2, he expressed the fervent hope that the Easter Bunny would bring him one–
An edible Jesus?