Maybe Trump is right after all. Maybe those guys south of us are up to something sneaky. Maybe naming a taco right in our own country with a provocative phrase is their way of psyching us out. And what about the taco drones and taco submarines that are massing at the Border and around the Gulf? C'mon, you can't say you haven't heard about those things! They're all over the news -- well, the news if you know where to look. And nowadays you gotta look carefully for the right kind of news, the kind that explains things instead of just hinting at them or doesn't push the envelope a bit.
The other night I'm sure I saw an armored taco clanking down the alley behind my place. The lettuce and diced tomatoes left a tell-tale trail that the police could have easily followed, after I called them, if they possessed the will to dig deeper. But all they did was give me a breathalyzer test and warn me about abusing the 911 system.
Now just gimme a chance to explain the real science behind a taco weapon of mass destruction. Keep an open mind, will ya? And remember, the Alamo wasn't built in a day. So here goes.
We've known for years that taco meat, when in the wrong hands, has the potential to be turned into a deadly explosive. The kind of explosive that can level a small city the size of Grand Island, Nebraska. And nobody wants that to happen -- except, maybe, the residents of Grand Island. I've never heard too many good things about the place. Anywho. When taco meat is mixed with certain chemical compounds and organic herbs and spices it becomes highly unstable and welcoming to free radicals. All it takes, I'm told, is a sudden jolt for the mixture to go up in flames like the Fourth of July. There's no disagreement about this at all between chemists world-wide. You've probably proved it to yourself, in a small way, after recklessly ordering the taco special at a paint store while looking for shellac.
It's also an undisputed fact that a small helping of taco meat, under controlled conditions, can power an aircraft carrier for two years before needing to be replenished. All of North America could be lit at night from the rumbustious energy emanating from just one Taco Bell. So the taco is both a blessing, and a curse. Much like that old couch in the basement that your friend from college slept on last winter.
The diabolical thing is that the delivery system for taco meat can be either soft shell or hard shell. There's no way of knowing in advance just which one will fly over your neighborhood or surface in your local duck pond. If I were at the Pentagon right now I know that this fiendish dilemma would be keeping me up at nights.
So can we at least all agree that it's a bad thing for tacos to be harnessed for war? Let's encourage our neighbors to the South to keep things in perspective. After all, Canada has had poutine for nearly a century now -- and they've never used it on any other country. It's kept under strict control and used only by hockey players during the winter months. Of course there was that meltdown in Moose Jaw last year, but they contained it quickly and kept everyone calm by passing out free "I Survived the Moose Jaw Melt Down" t-shirts.
So maybe we can hold a conference or something with potential international tacoteers -- see if we can get them to let the taco once again roam free and pure among the agave and sagebrush. And if not, I think we all know just how effective a Chicago hot dog can be in the hands of our military forces . . .
