Fromage: A History

Breath in breath out, that's what I've been telling myself to keep my head above the water so that I can finish the semester with style, flair, and flashy hair. In order to keep from becoming a college dropout I was trying to finish a commodity chain analysis paper draft for my People and the Environment class. It was sunday night, the draft was due wednesday, I had two words. In order to get this thing in readibable condition it was going to take a miracle, the likes of which hasn't been seen since biblical times when after breaking both legs in a chariot accident then getting up and walking away people exclaimed, "Jesus Walks!" Fortunately I had to take a break and find my pants. Tom decided I needed some help getting my creative juices flowing on this paper, so he typed up a historical account of the development of cheeses (my particular paper was on Mozzarella cheese). And so I returned pants in hand to find a wonderful awe inspiring piece of work already typed up and ready for me to bounce off of. So in these times of attrition I let this beast loose on you, the intergalactic screen-reading internet surfer, compliments of Tom Hammer.

A Brief History of Cheese


Cheese was invented by a group of cavemen who placed bets on what would happen if they left milk out in the hot, hot sun. Ug put five mastodons on a fecal smell while Magnum Guh bet that it would look like feces. They both ended up being correct and had to fight to the death. So, cheese was invented, and put on sandwiches in caves all over the place.
The dairy industry exploded with the explosion of ‘my butt’. Thousands lost their lives in the giant explosion, but one could view this as the glass being half full because from then on cows were raised stacked on top of each other in giant barns. Everyone loves cows stacked up on top of each other because it’s just plain awesome and if you try to refute that statement God will smite you. If God smites you then you would not be able to have sex. Being able to have sex is the basis of human existence. Without sex, mozzarella cheese would not exist. The milk enzymes copulate in order for you taste buds to dance with the wonderful sensation of cheesy in your mouth. This of course is a very sexy experience. It is almost as sexy as the porn I rented last night. In ‘Butt Rovers’ part 6, Jenna and Tyler use cheese wiz to demonstrate the sexiness of processed cheese. Processed cheese is a derivative of ass and preservatives, used in trailer parks across America.
Thus the modern steam engine was born and the industrial revolution took off. The effect this had on cheese was enormous. Families of mozzarella, stinky cheese, and bleu cheese were now mating in order to create mixed races of even smellier morbid pizza toppings. Dominoes soon started delivering pizzas running over small children in delivery cars in order to get the pizzas delivered to costumers in less than thirty minutes. The fears related to pizza related hit and runs as well as other products of modernity led to some bullcrap and dirt in your ear.
The hegemonic implications of sexy and stinky cheese are friggin wastes of time. They are more wasteful than my pet rabbit. My pet rabbit eats his own dung. Dung is completely organic and thus, sexy. Perhaps that means one should not write off my pet rabbit fluffy and should just roll with the punches and not be such a whiner.
When I grow up I want to have pet children of my own. They will only eat organic cheese and live in wire cages. Living a life of darkness and solitude, they will learn to appreciate the simple things in life such as cheese. Everyone loves cheese, unless they are complete fruits like Richard Simmons. Two years ago, I bought my first Richard Simmons exercise tape. It was not a sexy experience. Sitting in front of the TV in my spandex pink unitard I pranced around until I passed out from heat exhaustion. When the authorities found me, they injected some mojo into my blood stream giving me the energy I needed to remove toxins and kick ass alongside the other five power rangers.
While in the hospital I met an old lady named Gladys. Gladys kicked me in the nuts every morning at 6am before I was injected with my daily cough suppressant/horse tranquillizer. I’ll never forget her words. Every day she would shake her index finger at me and say “Tupac lives inside my mucus membranes.” Usually, I would simply smile, and roll her over on her five hundred pound stomach so the pain of her bedsores would be lessened.
Returning home was quite an experience. As you probably know, Vaseline makes wonderful lubricant, especially when smeared all over ones body. So, I squeezed myself down into the size of a golf ball and slid down the drain in an attempt to find my neighbors dead fish that was flushed down the toilet. However, in reality the fish was not completely dead, but just taking a nap. Fish take naps! Back off! It’s MY story. So anyway, I was sliding down the drain when I ran into my best friend from 4th grade. We laughed, we cried, skipped down the yellow brick road marveling at how much time had passed yet little had changed. Upon realizing that I did not remember his name, I smacked him (or her) upside the head and returned to my task of eating as many vanilla wafers as I could until the polar ice glaciers melted. It turns out this happened before you could say “oh my God I think I’ve fallen deep into the crack of a giant sidewalk and there are tiny bugs crawling out my nose as a big seagull craps on my grandmother who is playing strip poker with a sailor, a chicken without a head, and a drag queen related to prince.”
Cyberspace can be a hassle sometimes.

PS, my papers done, and Nate O. this is for you, I think you are a total Fishface, ha ha ha ha, got ya you loser.