In memory of RoboCop (1933-2007)

September 9, 2013

Someone spilled iced tea on RoboCop and broke him. The funeral is next Wednesday at 3:07 a.m., at the San Luis Obispo VFW. Do you think you could whip up some of your famous Jamaican Moebius lasagna? Whatever you do, wear comfortable shoes, and be ready to chuckle.


What You’ll Need:

1 gallon 2% milk (warm)
16.3 medium brown eggs
2 medium brown tomatoes
5,226 grains Cypriot sea salt
The darkness
4 unused desktop icons
1 lb. angry tofu
Fuck it, a lemon
3 liters feta grease
12 basil leaves, dried, stolen
1 celery stalk, extra smooth
36 gallons Grand Marnier
1 package Red Vines
Kevin Costner’s telephone number


It’s your fault, you know. “Oh, yeah, let’s put a vending machine in the break room!” Fucking idiot. Go get a frying pan, idiot. Put it on the stove.

You’re nine years old, you have a fever of 106, and you’re trying to pry the Ms. Pac-Man sex tape from the VCR while your dad is fighting an eagle in the front yard. Add salt. Not too fast. Not too slow. Faster. Stop.

Simmer for eight days.

Did you really know RoboCop? Did anyone? I keyed his car once, but I was young and na├»ve. I did it again and he vaporized my children. I did it again last month and he just cried. Would I do it again? I’m doing it right now. Add pepper.

If you don’t mind, I’m going to play a few bars of “Famous Blue Raincoat” on this here harpsichord. Oh? That’s not a harpsichord? That’s Cathy? Hello, Cathy.

Do you have any fresh garlic handy? Good. Throw it out. All of it. RoboCop hated garlic. While you’re doing this, add the dark chocolate shavings to the double boiler and do not look at me.

Now remove the Cornish game hens from the oven. Place them on the floor. Step on them. Crush them. You’re free to join in, Cathy. Destroy these wretched things once and for all.

This is my kitchen. MY kitchen. You are just guests in my kitchen, you and “Cathy.” If RoboCop were here, well… hey, has anyone ever told you you look just like a severely dehydrated Brian Dennehy? MY kitchen.

Stir in the margarine now. You’re terrible at this. Why did you do it, anyway? What did RoboCop ever do to you? You make me sick. Crumble the bacon into the small pan.

I’m sorry I called you a harpsichord, Cathy. I love you. Let’s leave this recipe and go to Lansing together to start a new life. Right now. The plane is already on the tarmac. The pilot is named Carl.

Goodbye, Brian Dennehy. May your future culinary endeavors be more successful. There are some Cool Ranch corn chips in the cupboard if you want them. They expired in 1998 but should still be digestible. Please burn this place down before you leave.

(Serves 4)