Lard deposit

After pounding some chicharron I realized that in just a few bites I had totally hit my fat and meat quotas for the next few years… but I did suddenly remember a weird conversation I had with my friend Karin a long time ago.

I was talking to a friend and speculating on how long someone could survive by eating solely lard. Maybe water too. But nothing else. This is not to be taken metaphorically, like really fatty meat… no. Only unadulterated lard, the kind you can buy in Mexican groceries in big buckets.

Karin refused to even consider this question. “That’s ridiculous” she said, “why would you do that?”

This was years ago, before reality television shows like Survivor or Fear Factor… so “to win money” didn’t occur to me. Instead I said “I dunno, maybe you are on a desert island or something”

“A desert island with lard?!?” Karin said.

“Yeah sure… like just you and crates and crates of lard. And a can opener!” How clever I was. I’ve seen too many ironic episodes of The Twilight Zone to forget that last part.

“That’s a lot of cans! It would go bad before you died of malnutrition.”

“You think? What if you were getting regular airlifts of lard?”

“That’s stupid. Why wouldn’t you just get rescued by the planes?” Ah how naive we were. What if the planes are the ones who put you there? Like intentionally? You’re being tortured? Didn’t think of that, didja!

“OK, fine” I said, jumping directly to the ludicrous, “it’s a constant stream of lard, that bubbles out of the ground. It’s a mineral deposit. A spring tapped directly into the Lard Table.”

That’s about all I remember about that conversation. ShaC’s contribution today was “what if you were a FedEx pilot, and someone was shipping entire pallets of lard… and those packages were the only ones that washed up on shore with you. And a volleyball.”