The Cow And I

An Incidental Regret

Guy may have many regrets in BeefStakes, stemming from his almost fetishistic obsession with stretching the concepts of food, beef as food, and even beef. After all, when one’s slope is as slippery as Guy’s, it would take much longer than a year to exhaust all the possibilities.

Unlike my opponent, my imagination and tastes are much less exaggerated. Unlike Guy, I am not a gustatory homunculus, merely a simple nutritional ascetic. As Guy has pointed out in a number of his caustically condescending blogs, I’ve subsisted year round largely on Poppy’s, shami kabobs and overcooked Belted Galloway. And so, having far fewer aesthetic and epicurean needs, I have far fewer regrets.

But I do have one.

In fact, I painfully regret my failure to promptly address a grievous blow inflicted upon me by my opponent months ago during my visit to Washington DC. I refer, of course, to the “incident” around which I have been cryptically circumlocuting since May, and about which Guy has been speculating endlessly.

Guy, is the “incident” really a mystery to you? Could you really have forgotten the ignoble deed you perpetrated in the skulking dark? Indeed, Herr Petzall, has your relentless evil turned so banal to you that it’s actually necessary to refresh your recollection?

The “Incident”

Allow me to take you back in time to that fateful trip. As my conference trip to DC approached, imagine my joy upon learning that my dear old friend Ed was able to meet with me during my stay. Imagine my even greater joy when, after describing BeefStakes to him, he agreed to serve me a delicious home-cooked meal of beef during my visit. Oh, what a fun time it would be!

Time passed, my plane landed in our Nation’s capital, and I settled in for a productive conference. Sometime during the second day of the trip, I received a call from Ed giving me directions to his home. I arrived, on time, to his home. We exchanged small talk, reminisced about our time spent together in high school and college, and I enjoyed meeting his two sons and very pregnant wife.

As we sat down to dinner, I couldn’t help but notice the pleasant aroma emanating from his kitchen. Then, moments after Ed excused himself to bring our beefy victuals to the dining room, he returned with a tray heaped high with the most succulent roast festooned with haricots verts and delicately encrusted in salted sprigs of rosemary. The meat drippings had been collected and thickened into a most delicious gravy to be soon poured liberally over generous portions of steaming, scallion-and-garlic adorned new potatoes. My old friend had truly outdone himself for the sake of BeefStakes. All was well.

Until I realized, a few bites into the roast, that this wasn’t beef at all. It was … lamb. Yes, definitely lamb. How could this be?

Ed, sensing my discovery as he gazed at me across the softly lit dinner table, suddenly broke into shit-eating grin. “Old boy, I hope you’re enjoying the lamb, courtesy of Guy.”

Oh.

Moments later, as a feeling of impotent rage boiled up from within me, Ed said the most curious thing. So scarcely could I believe my ears that I asked him to repeat himself. To which he obligingly complied: “You know I wouldn’t worry about tonight’s meal too much. Guy revealed to me, in strictest confidence, that he was falsifying his logs, and you’re actually ahead. Significantly ahead. Enjoy your lamb, and for God’s sake don’t tell him I let you in on his little secret. He’s planning on overestimating by at least a hundred pounds before it’s over.”

What can I say? Mum’s the word.

From that point on, armed with this new, proprietary information, I took things a little easier, and I didn’t sweat my apparent deficit. While Guy’s act of falsification is an outrage, and grounds for automatic forfeiture per the rules, it actually helps me in the end, as I too have been concealing a significant amount of meat that I’ve eaten, yet not reported. Thus, now that we’ve hit the end of the year, I demand a recount. Guy, let’s see your real numbers, shall we? And I’ll show you mine.

... actually, none of this really happened.

OK, the Real “Incident”

Did I have you going there for a minute? Oh, I did visit DC, but Ed’s wife went into labor when I got to town. I never had the chance to see him, and I spent all of my quality time with Max and Andreia instead.

But this alternate version of reality wasn’t just conjured up out of thin air. I’ve based it on some rather disturbing information I’ve received from Ed. It seems there was a conversation between the two of them, a portion of which most conveniently happened to take place via email, a transcript of which just happens to have come into my possession. Care to take a look?

Guy (on April 23): … Seriously, though: bring Eric to some restaurant. Get him served a massive slab of Soy-beef. Just to enrage him. You don't see him all that often, best enrage him while you have the chance.

Guy (on April 23): OK I just had an idea. If you reject it, please don't mention it to Eric. My idea is that, although I am beating Eric so far, if you were to mention to him (of course in confidence) that I had mentioned to you (of course in confidence) that I've been falsifying my logs, and that I am actually trailing by a small margin, it might make him a little less zealous in his newfound security-as-victor. It's not true, but letting Eric think he's ahead certainly wouldn't hurt, would it?

Ed (on April 24): I don't know how many of these machinations i'm comfortable with... after all, i haven't seen the guy in years. however, we're now planning two meals together -- a lunch in DC and a dinner at my house -- so my house would probably be the better location for shenanigans.

As I said, these schemes didn’t fester to fruition. Guy missed his chance to fuck with me. Ed, in the end, thought better of taking undue advantage of our first meeting in years, and confessed the whole thing a day before our planned engagement.

And I am quite convinced that, if I had shown up for dinner, beef would have been on the menu and on my plate.

Afterthoughts

However, the point of this missive is that - Soy Beef aside - Guy did in fact make an attempt to unhinge the natural course of the contest. If Ed had followed through with the falsification story, and if I had bought it, I may well have settled into a much less aggressive routine. This was a dastardly deed, indeed. Thinking about it fills me with rage.

Nonetheless, at the same time, thinking about it fills me with admiration. Guy really takes the cake. To contact someone with whom he hasn’t spoken in years, based on the off-hand suspicion I might try to catch up with Ed during my trip, and to secretly attempt to engage our old friend in a ruse to defeat me: such is the mark of a true predator. What a scheme. What a truly fiendish opponent.

What a contest.

Posted by eric at December 24, 2004 06:30 PM