The Many Sides of Beef

Shame, Shame, Hillshire Farms: False Advertising.

Back in the old days of Grunting and Scratching & Vexing and Flexing, "beef" used to mean one thing only: [censored]. Oh, you know, it came to mean Dispute, of course, verb and noun. One could express a beef, or beef loudly, for example, with one's kinsman. Said kinsman, indeed, could entertain a beef whilst grilling a beef on his Hibachi and, to wit, could Air His Beef, as well. The Airing of the Beef is a Signature Event in most western Psychotherapies, if not at red traffic lamps. Today, of course, with the advent of Jet Travel, beef has become a destination, as well. If, that is, you wish to visit the British Virgin Islands. Then you must travel to Beef Island, like it or not. Many other countries, with eyes toward luring travelers, have strategically placed beef nearby airports, and in many cases, within airports, thereby making beef, [censored], available as part of most itineraries. It has also, beef has, come to mean substance. In a famous moment in U.S. Political History, Ronald Reagan (R-Calif.) asked Walter Mondale (D-Minn.) "Where's the beef?" after the two had sat down together for Psychotherapies. I believe that Mondale still, to this day, seeks the beef. As in, he pursues both a beef and the beef, ad nauseum, museum da, to his own detriment. That's what one did, in the old days: Pursued a beef to one's own detriment. Nowadays, you can't even tell a rufous bird from a man, "Roofus," who resembles a slanted overhead shelter. The Beat Generation had its chance. I call upon a New Generation of Americans -- The Beef Generation -- to stand up. Organize your Beefdoms, your Coral Beefs. Together, we march as One Flank, One Loin, One Shank, One Rib, One Tib, One Round, One Skirt, One Roast, One Ground.