By W.R. Jones
The thought of beef reminds me of a story of a grocery shopping experience in Iowa. I may have told you this story before. If so, just read it again and shut up. I’m old.
I was standing in a checkout line behind a man with an armload of meat, only meat. He laid it all on the counter and the checkout woman rang it up. He then said he need a couple of packs of cigarettes. The woman rang those up then looked at him and said, “That’s right, those cigarettes cost as much as all of that meat. Maybe you should think about quitting.” “Oh”, he replied, “those are for grandma, I don’t smoke.” “Sure.” As she was taking his money and bagging his purchase there was a loud clack as something hit the floor. “You dropped something”, she said. He bent to pick it up. “Oh ya, grandma’s lighter.”