Ice Cream

I love ice cream. Since I just polished off a bowl of sherbet, I felt compelled to share my feelings on the matter. I was startled to find out that this frozen delight was enjoyed by the Persians in its earliest form around 400 BCE “as something like a cross between a sorbet and a rice pudding“. I strongly feel that ice cream is the greatest food ever. This food has the unique ability to bring a feeling of contentment and bliss. I mean, if war-torn third-world countries that are situated in the desert had access to an ample supply of ice cream, I feel they could resolve their problems without fighting. If I was a World Power that wanted to subdue a county, I would drop quarts of Breyers instead of propaganda pamphlets. A desert farmer in the area would start eating the ice cream and say, “Well I’m not sure about their form of government, but this stuff is delicious!” Yes ice cream is quite persuasive; they even say that “the key to a man’s heart is though his stomach”. I used to think that this only applied to socially inept farm folk, but that may not be entirely true. If a woman walked up to me with a bowl of pecan pie and ice cream and said “I hope you enjoy this recently baked pecan pie topped with vanilla ice cream…” I think that “Endless Love” might start playing in the back of my head. People wonder why obesity is becoming a national epidemic, well ill tell you why: Grandmothers. It’s not really my fault that I love ice cream so much. As a small child my grandmother would give me ice cream for just about anything (kinda like how my mom would give me Dimetapp for anything). Grandma I don’t feel well, “Have some ice cream”, or Grandma I’m hungry, “Have some ice cream”, and my favorite: Grandma I’m cold, “Have some ice cream”. 150 years ago Grandmothers would have given the children apples, or maybe a salt-lick.