The Cow And I

The Boy Who Cried Beef

OK, so Guy is outraged. Outraged that I allegedly, repeatedly, wantonly violated the BeefStakes Rules by withholding meat weight after a Judicial Order of full disclosure. At the heart of his accusation is the sneaking suspicion that kilo upon kilo of secret beef have been dangled in front of his blindfolded eyes, all the while I knew exactly how much meat he’s eaten, right down to the last measly gram. His outrage is directed at me, and at Max, for failing to penalize these repeated violations. Indeed, Guy’s blog screamed of outrage. I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to make sure, so I called Max, on the hunch that they’d communicated about the issue. Our esteemed Judge confirmed that, indeed, Guy was “pretty upset”. That response seemed pretty subjective, notwithstanding Max’s usually impeccable objectivity, so I called my opponent himself. “Hey, Guy, are you actually outraged?” “Yes.” Just to clarify, I probed a little deeper: “In other words, you’re very angry?” “Yes.” Guy’s expression of hurt and rage didn’t entirely convince me, hence my second phone call ten minutes later: “Seriously, are you really, truly outraged?” Guy countered with his own question: “Wouldn’t you be, at the injustice of it all?” “I just wanted to know.” “Well, yes, I’m outraged.” OK, so Guy is outraged.

The reason for my disbelief was, of course, that I’ve heard this all before. More times than I can count. So often that it’s become a bit routine. To whit, the strained squeaks and squeals of Guy’s outrage have filled the cavernous halls of beef for many a moon since the beginning of the year, so frequently and with such shrill intensity that it takes enormous effort to cock my ear and listen any more. Indeed, like so much white noise, the caustic appellations “craven”, “sneak”, “venomous”, “skulking”, and “treacherous” have lost all but a shred of their intended meaning, having been indiscriminately tossed at me like some after-thought hand-grenade more times than I care to count. Why, it’s enough to make me consult dictionary.com to remind myself of the appropriate degree of shock I should feel when, once again, Guy lobs a jibe in my general direction.

And so, after wave upon wave of such indignant accusations, each offered up with the regularity of a drippy faucet, can you honestly blame me for doubting the pained cries of this boy who cried beef?

But I digress.

All right, Guy is convinced I haven’t been completely honest about my meat consumption throughout the year? OK. OK. I’ve got some explaining to do, per Max’s new demand for full disclosure. It’s time to put the matter of my total secret consumption to rest. Time to fess up. Time to stick a fork in it.

I have to admit, my opponent’s suspicion is well-reasoned. His charts and graphs, expertly rendered, point out the obvious fact that my reported meat consumption dropped inexplicably in mid-July. This precipitous decline seemed all the odder in light of my near-simultaneous purchase of an ultra-efficient Weber Genesis Silver B Gas Grill, and my subsequent acquisition of an undisclosed share of one Young Belted Galloway. Even before noting this statistically significant shift in consumption, as early as June, he accused me of withholding. On June 9, June 14, and many times thereafter by phone, email, and blog, Guy’s attacks on my credibility continued unabated. How could I be so far behind him? Come on, could my bullshit be any more blatant?

And yet, each time I was confronted by this accusation, I sheepishly persisted in proclaiming my innocence, knowing all the while that my opponent was guilty of the same sin of omission. When, finally, Max confronted the both of us about our secret logs in September, I revealed a good number of entries that had been, theretofore, unknown to my opponent. Of course, Guy wasn’t the least bit surprised. He could smell my bullshit a mile away.

From that point forward, I assured Guy that I would turn over a new leaf. No more lies. No more deception. And so, since September, I’ve assured him that my logged weight represents a full and accurate accounting of my total weight consumed. Yes, I now admit, there is reason to doubt my claim. How could there not be additional weight withheld from my September revelation? How could I not have withheld meat since that time? Guy himself was intimately familiar with this brand of deception, having concealed his continued participation in BeefStakes even after an alleged withdrawal from the contest. How could I not be expected to defend myself in the same manner? And so, is it any wonder that he again smells the stink of lies on me even as he sniffs the traces of it on himself?

But you know - it’s a funny thing about bullshit. If you shovel it enough times, nobody will believe you when, at long last, you finally decide to tell the truth.

You see, after September’s revelation, I came clean. And I mean totally clean, despite Guy's accusations to the contrary. No more secret weight. Not an ounce. Not a gram. What you see is what you get. Guy’s actual, true, real lead is almost 80 lbs. There are no more tricks up my sleeve. There is no way I can catch up to him at this point. And what about that precipitous drop in July? A simple case of indigestion.

So, whether Guy believes me or not, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

As we approach the setting of the sun on our beloved BeefStakes, if Guy actually chooses to believe me this time, he can take pleasure in the fact that he doesn’t have to lift a fork the entire month to claim the crown. And I’ll take comfort in the fact that I have one more month of freedom before surrendering to his inevitable, and unspeakable dominion.

Posted by eric at November 30, 2004 11:19 PM