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Those Japs Sure Can Cook
by Death

 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 fun!

 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.

 Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what the index is made of