Persons attempting to find a "text" in this [story] will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a "subtext" in it will be banished; persons attempting to explain, interpret, explicate, analyze, deconstruct, or otherwise "understand" it will be exiled to a desert island in the company only of other explainers.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR - Wendell Berry's introduction to Jayber Crow.
This article was posted to Jayber on 27 March 2006 by to the following categories: Feature, Stories.
An audio version of this article is also available.
Recently, Mandy and I dropped nine (9) fazolies on popcorn at the AMC. Before sitting down, we made a pit stop at the automatic butter dispenser--a monstrosity with a single over-sized yellow button (the size of my fist) simply labeled, "Push for Butter."
We centered our bag under the spigot, pressed the yellow button, and were simultaneously disgusted and amazed at the thickness and liquidity of the warm and greasy stream that was noticeably filling up the bottom of the bag. Mmm.
Fast rewind 15 years. In Junior High, our school cafeteria tried out a new condiment dispenser: an electronic ketchup squirter. Imagine the hilarity others experienced as they watched me (wearing white jeans, and a white t-shirt), walk up to the machine, press the button, and patiently wait, as the machine burped an air bubble, and erupted ketchup all over my front-side.
I didn't think much about these things until a couple of days ago when I was wolfing down a Chicken Bake at the Costco Food Court, when my buddy Matt pointed out a sauerkraut dispenser bolted to the wall. It was the kind that had a whole crap load of sauerkraut loaded into the top, and to get it out, you had to turn a crank. Kind of like a sausage maker, only for, well, you know... sauerkraut.
Condiment dispensers, I salute you.