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Sometimes they would try to corner me with logic: “Well, how do you know you don’t like it, if you’ve never even tried it?”

“It came to me in a dream.” Big pain in the ass.

Some things I didn’t like because of the way they sounded.

“Don’t sound right to me, Ma. Say that again?”

“Asparagus.”

“No, I don’t like that.” Imagine. I got away with that for eight or nine years.

To this day, there are still some things I won’t eat because of how they sound. Yogurt sounds disgusting. I can’t eat anything that has both a “y” and a “g” in it. Squash is also badly named.

“You want some squash?” Sounds like someone sat on di

“How would you like a nice tongue sandwich? It’s made from slices of a cow’s tongue.”

“Hey, Ma, are you fuckin’ tryin’ to make me sick?”

There are also foods that sound too fu

Or when you can’t remember the name of something. “Ed, where’s that little guacamole that plugs into the lamp?”

Another food too fu

On the other hand, there were some foods I didn’t like because of how they looked. That seems a bit more rational.

“I don’t like that! It don’t look right to me. Did you make that, Ma? Yeah? Is there a picture of it in the cookbook? I’ll bet it don’t look like that.”

Of course, some people will eat anything, no matter how it looks. I saw guys like that on the chow line in the army.

“Hi, boys! Whaddaya got? I’ll eat anything. What’s that called? Never mind, gimme a whole bunch of it.”

“It’s rat’s asshole, Don.”

“Well, it sure makes a hell of a fondue.”

Not me. I don’t eat anything I don’t recognize immediately. If I have to ask questions, I pass. I’m not at di

Now, there are some foods that even though I know what they are, I still don’t like their looks. Tomatoes, for instance. My main problem with tomatoes is that they don’t look as though they’re fully developed. They look like they’re still in the larval stage; thousands of tiny seeds and a whole lot of jelly-lookin’ slime. “Get it off my plate! It’s slimy!” It’s like that stuff at the end of an egg.

Of course, I know it’s not the end of an egg . . . it’s the begi

Oh, I’m fun in the coffee shop.

Lobsters and crabs don’t look like food to me, either. Anything with big pinchers crawling toward me sideways doesn’t make me hungry. In fact, my instinct is “Step on that fuck! Step on him before he gets to the children!”

And I definitely ca

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