This time, the fun continues with 1959's cookbook called How to Become a Cookout Champion: Win with these New Bar-B-Tricks. Please note: there are no interesting "tricks" for meat and you will never become a champion of the cookout. Your macho friends will mock you mercilessly, call you Mary and put you in charge of putting doilies underneath everyone's beer cans while they're watching the foosball match and fixing carburetors. (That is what manly men do, right?)
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While I fully support the swell silver tinfoil cover, I do not condone the khaki slacks, blue socks, matching blue Keds and those Judy Garland-approved eyebrows. But why no meat on the grill? And why is lubing up the grill with ketchup? This bbq is off to an awesome start.
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Men like meat on sticks, true dat. Adding tofu circles is questionable. And nothing says "crazy summer fun with the boys" like serving a hot cup of coffee.
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Serving shit in hollowed-out melons and breadbowls and the like is so hokey it makes me a little stabby, but I guess in the 50's and 60's it was a novel, ca-razay par-tay trick. So I'm not hatin'. Except on another page of the cookbook, all of the dishes are served on ice in a wheelbarrow. Aww, how cutesy-tootsie. I'm pretty sure any man who served his meat-on-sticks in a gardening appliance at a party would get his ass kicked into next week. Except perhaps if he served it while riding the lawnmower. Wheelbarrow presentation is right up there on the hokiness scale, next to toilet bowl planters in the front yard.
But can I just address the beverage choice? Squirt. SQUIRT. "Wherever there's Squirt...there's fun"? I BET there is. A man must have written that ad, because I'm pretty sure no woman would find anything squirting in her general vicinity to be a good time. And sure as hell not in the punch bowl.