Those Japs Sure Can Cook
Hi, can we talk for a minute? It's me, Death. You probably know
me from my works such as Marie Antoinette, Mama Cass, and Socrates. Today,
I'd like to discuss something which represents an increasingly important
part of my non-life. It is a piece of Japan which has slowly been gaining
popularity in the United States thanks to a cult following. I am not speaking
of Anime or even the practice of selling used underwear from street-corner
vending machines. Rather, I am talking about that show of wonder and magic
that is Iron Chef.
For those of you in the audience who may be uninitiated into the
deep mysteries of Iron Chef, let me explain the precise nature of the show.
Basically, there's this insane Japanese man who likes watching chefs cry.
So he gets two of them, puts them in a kitchen and forces them to prepare
dishes based on a single ingredient which he chooses every week. I think
he must like to eat a lot too, because he and a panel of celebrities drawn
from the bottom of the Japanese celebrity barrel judge the work of the
culinary warriors. The one who wins gets something. They never really say
what the prize for winning is, but since it's a show from Japan I can only
assume that the winner is given free access to a girls school of his choice
for the next week or so until a new winner comes along. Frankly, this seems
like a pretty good deal for the show's champions, known as the Iron Chefs
since they win a lot and therefore get to have sex with a lot of underage
Japanese school girls.
Now, I, Death have been watching the show for some time now and
I think I appreciate the combat that takes place in all its infinite variety
and subtlety. First, the man who designed the show dresses like Liberace.
This is obviously to increase the belief by the audience and the contenders
that he is absolutely insane. Liberace, also known as Chairman Kaga, opens
every show by taking a big bite out of a yellow bell pepper. His actions
in general, along with his wearing of stiff leather gloves while attempting
to eat with chopsticks and various other table implements, all suggest
to me that he is completely out of his mind. This probably proves helpful
when he lets the chefs know which one is the winner as the loser is less
likely to attempt to attack an obvious madman in a fit of pique.
The contesting chefs try to intimidate each other with the complexity
of their dishes while they cook and when the food is judged, they stand
at the head of the table and perform martial arts moves in order to sway
the judges. Basically, Iron Chef is insane. Unfortunately, the loser is
not publicly executed at the end of the show. I think if this were added,
the program would be entirely perfect and well worth spending an hour watching.
In fact, I'm going to write the producers right now and see if I can get
the losing contestant to commit ritual suicide every week. That would be
Besides the no random bloodshed thing, the chefs who appear on
Iron Chef are pretty frightening. This makes me believe that I should be
on the show myself. I mean, who's more frightening than Death? Admittedly,
I have problems preparing a grilled cheese sandwich even after someone
has put the bread and cheese into the proper order for me, but I'm Death
and with me on the show, who knows where the ratings will stop! So I figure
they'll have to make some changes to the format to fit me in. Obviously,
I'll be one of the Iron Chefs. No puny challenger am I. Oh no, I am a true
master. I have an unusual style of cooking, so I would be the wildcard
chef on the show. My particular style is Death. So instead of challenging
Iron Chef Chinese or French, people would challenge Iron Chef Death.
I hope you don't think I'm lying when I tell you that in my countless
millennia of existence I have gotten quite good at what I do. Frankly,
I'm not sure whether a challenge to me would require that I cook food as
though I were grilling up a nice fresh corpse or whether I would have to
kill the weekly ingredient and present it as performance cooking, but hey,
I'm game. Plus, I'd be really, really good at standing at the end of the
reviewing table in my cloak and cowl staring at people with my glowing
lights out of my skull eye-sockets. That way, I doubt any of the judges
would want to insult my cooking. I think my specialty would be food boiled
in oil. Puppies, kittens, babies. I can do them all. Each one a more delectable
taste treat than the last.
Hmmm. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. I wonder if I
have any more kittens in the fridge. Maybe next to the beer...
I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing now. Be sure
to watch Iron Chef or I'll come for you early. Thanks for your time.
and spice and everything nice, that's what the index is made of