Old Sock Drawer

Currently listening to: “Defying Gravity” – Wicked

So the media is right on the heels of a certain U.S. President Barack Obama, a complete media circus complete with overanalyzing political analysts (sidenote- am I the only one who thinks Canada needs some good political pundits? I definitely think that Rick Mercer and Russell Peters should join forces in an epic show of political snark and wit), etc etc. But honestly, following the poor man all the way down to Byward Market and speculating on his reasons for getting a beavertail? Now that’s pushing it a tad bit, methinks. Now, not to be trite about this, but when CBC, CBC again, the National Post, CTV, and the aforementioned ABC News all link to the Beavertail-consuming event, well…let’s just say it might be a fun issue, but not worth the hoopla.

Now don’t get me wrong, Obamaniacs, I think the guy’s marvellous and everyone likes to hear about media-friendly newsworthy political figures, and beavertails are more than marvellous. But maybe that’s all there is to it. CBC speculation on television at circa 1.30 p.m. PT was rife with theories on Why He Got A Beavertail. No, he’s not snubbing off the US embassy (which is three minutes away from Byward), as one lady speculated on the news. Why should he, we haven’t done anything outrageously ridiculous to our neighbours down south lately. So why get a beavertail then?? Sure, blare as much as you like about cultural identity and whatnot, if it makes you happy. Newfangled conspiracy theories aside, one need only consider the simple fact that beavertails are delicious. That’s all there is to it. They are scrumptious. The mere thought makes my mouth water. They are comfort food (along with poutine), and you don’t need a reason to have poutine, and you shouldn’t need an excuse to have a beavertail.

Mind you, I’m preaching to the converted here, though. If you haven’t had a beavertail, I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND.

These things are amazing. They are like Christmas nights, summer lovin’, and late night stargazing wrapped into a large doughy piece of fantastic and magic, topped with cinnamon and sugar (and other toppings which you may choose from). They are like the best days of childhood where you could run around with fingers sticky with honey and jam and run in meadows of little yellow flowers and prance till the sun set. They are, for the less metaphorically-extended, basically Mini-Donuts from Playland, except large, and flat.

Seriously.

Go get one, and then you’ll understand.
You’ll never need an excuse to have one.

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