My Mothership

I have found my mothership, or as George Clinton would say, "my interplanetary funksmanship." It is in the form of a television show. The travel channel featured a segment called Deep Fried Paradise today. It was wonderful. My mouth watered as my new television showcased the glistening fried pickles and the decadent fried Twinkies. Then it happened. Something I have never seen before appeared on my screen, and I had to sit up in bed (yes, I was watching this in bed) to get a better look. Are you ready for this? It was chicken fried bacon. Genius! I've now spent the last part of a beautiful afternoon pestering the shit out of Mr. Bitchford because I want him to make some. I'll report back on its tasty, artery clogging goodness as soon as I can get him to break down and make it.

UPDATE: Mr. Bitchford said, "Hell to the no." I wasn't aware of his Whitney Houston vocabulary. I'm still working on him.