Summer. Lazy days. I was walking down Foothill Boulevard with Miss Audrey Hepburn, our black Lab rescue dog from the Pasadena Humane Society. It was a nice evening and a lot of the regulars were out, walking their dogs.
Suddenly Miss Hepburn stopped. There in front of us was an old, partly shredded copy of Gourmet, the now-defunct, formerly impeccable revista of foodie technique.
Miss Hepburn began to paw and sniff at the soiled magazine. Why was she so interested?
I looked down. There, on the cover of the ancient copy was a photograph of — guacamole.
This got me thinking. What with the spies and Mel Gibson, I've had limited time to cook and shop. I'm very involved in these matters. Take Mel Gibson, for example. Where was Jesse Jackson when Mel hassled the, uh, law enforcement officer of the Hebraic persuasion? Where was the Rainbow Coalition then? By the second tape, however, as George Lopez aptly noted, Mel had finally taken on the Latinos.