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Cored figs.

To the tune of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs,” inspired by a parody fragment from Matt Dibb in response to a coworker’s observation that the office mini fridge has a label that says “Sabbath Mode: Back”


Ears of corn without their tassles
Dipped in sauces of molasses
Evil minds eshew directions
Sorcerers of dark confections
On the grill the steaks are burning
As the boiling broth keeps churning
Slicing all the fruits we find
Detaching their handwashed rinds
Oh lord yeah!

Cold libations will wash away
If they spill on the floor
Why should we waste them tonight?
Maybe you should let me pour


Time will tell if their palate likes
Making jello salad for fun
Treating people to some watercress
Wait ’till their final course comes!

Now in darkness broth is churning
On the grill the veggies burning
No more cored figs they’re too sour
Side of cod was dipped in flour
Foodie judgement now is falling
On the counter cored figs sprawling
Begging mercy for their sins
Gallagher his mallet brings
Oh lord yeah!

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