It was the smell that hit me first. An irresistable mixture of of brisket and mustard and black pepper smothered in swiss cheese laid on a loaf of rye. I would have wet myself if I could. Had I tear ducts, I'd have wept. Young troubador Jeremy Fisher had just strolled nonchalantly aboard the great big bus with no less than 10 lbs of prime smoked meat all the way from Schwarz's famous deli in montreal. Had I lips, he most certainly would have been kissed. I have no idea if Mr. Fisher is a religious man, but I have vowed to embrace the Kaballah.
Half way through my third sandwich, it struck me just how potent this simple satisfying gift could be if given on a global scale. Got a problem with the Taliban? Air drop a plane load of montreal's finest on their asses. That will wipe the snarls off their surly faces. Hard to fire a rocket launcher when yer hove off on the couch watching the Habs. And how bout those big cement walls in the Gaza strip? Would they not fall to the powerful flavour as well? Throw in a vat of poutine and that conflict is over. Pirates off the African horn? Give their machete blades something truly worthy of fine slicing....and some pickles. Drug cartels would crumble the world over if we offered their customers an alternate form of consumable bliss. Kim Jong ill might even crack a smile.
Life is short.
Why spend it making weapons when you can make sandwiches?
Tosh