By Rick Fromm
By Rick Fromm

    I'll be the first to admit – actually my wife, Sarah, would probably be the first – my mind often doesn’t work like most. While I’m fairly “normal” most of the time, there are definitely instances when I drift off into “Rickiland” and ponder things that have absolutely no significance to man and womankind at all, or are downright weird.

Since I’m probably not going to commit murder – unless the Chicago Cubs trade Kris Bryant – let’s suppose it’s 15 years from now and the world has been completely taken over by radical Islamic terrorists or President Donald Trump has been re-elected for the fourth or fifth time (he can sign an executive order to make that happen).

Let’s also suppose the terrorists and/or Trump would declare that anyone over the age of 70 has to demonstrate clearly that they are contributing to society rather than just living on social welfare and taking up oxygen.

Those who are deemed to be worthwhile are allowed to continue their lives – subject to evaluation every other year – or are determined to be a “load” and are thus sentenced to … well, you get the idea.

Sound far-fetched and downright absurd? Absolutely. But the way the world is operating right now, nothing would surprise me at this point. And I mean nothing. The systematic elimination of the aged is probably – hopefully – not going to happen, but one never knows. This world is rather upside down right now, and even the most optimistic person would have to agree there’s at least a chance it will never be stable or upright again.

With that in mind, let’s take it one step further and imagine it’s only a few short hours before you are removed from your cell and taken to that “special” room from which no one returns. At that point, you’d probably be offered a “last meal” of pretty much anything your heart desired. If that were the case, what would be your choice for a final fare?

I told you my mind was rather strange, and if this subject matter isn’t proof of that, then I don’t know what is. Believe it or not, I’ve pondered many times what my selection for a last meal would be and, after much thought and consideration, have made a decision I can live with. Oops, poor choice of words.

Most people I talked to and ask that question give fairly predictable answers – like a big juicy steak with mashed potatoes, or spaghetti, or barbecued ribs, or lobster/crab legs, or a Gunder burger, or prime rib, or southern fried chicken or blueberry pancakes, or a giant piece of the best pizza in the world. Obviously, the choices are endless and it’s actually fascinating to discover what trips the taste buds of your friends and relatives.

My choice for a final feast before I’m hurled into the great void? It goes something like this: I’d start off with about 120 oysters on the half shell with Tabasco sauce and a tall, cold beverage of the adult variety.

The entree would be a heaping helping of my own Greek-style chicken pilaf over steaming, sticky white rice that you devour as if it’s your … well, last meal.

The primary side dish to the pilaf would be fresh Iowa sweet corn – you know, the kind that pops in your mouth when you bite into it and contains just the right mixture of salt and real butter. Oh sweet Jesus. Nothing tastes more like an Iowa summer than fresh-picked sweet corn. Period.

And for dessert? No contest. I’d request a mammoth slice of Boston cream pie. Don’t know what a Boston cream pie is? More’s the pity.

A taste-treat delight like no other, this special pie is a yellow butter cake that is filled with custard or cream and topped with chocolate glaze. Despite its name, it is in fact a cake, and not a pie. I don’t care what you call it, the fact is it’s good – real good.

Beverage of choice? No doubt about it. I would prefer a “blended” – half chocolate milk and half white. Never tried it? Do yourself a favor.

So in the event I’m “put out to pasture” after I turn 70 by the powers that be, don’t feel too sorry for me. I’ll be dining in style – but I’m not sharing any Boston cream pie. When you’re doomed, being stingy is okay.

Can’t believe they were contemplating taking the popular television comedy “Last Man Standing” off the air because – as rumor has it – the show’s star Tim Allen made too many anti-Obama, anti-Hillary or anti-liberal remarks as a comedic sidebar to the series.

Are you kidding me? Tim Allen makes a few jokes (and they were just that – jokes) about former President Obama or Hillary and the decision-makers in Hollywood or wherever come apart at the seams.

Well how is that any different than what Saturday Night Live does each week in its “humor” about conservatives, the Republican Party or the Donald? Give me a break.

Perhaps I’m missing something, but can someone please enlighten me on the difference? I don’t see it.

Try laughing folks. Tim Allen is a funny man.