A Piece of the Pie
It looks like pizza is the defining element of revolution in the 21st century. What is it about this wondrous culinary concoction that weaves such universal magic? Is it the way the strands of gooey cheese stay connected to the whole pie until the very last minute before it slithers deliciously down the excited throat? Is it the coins of pepperoni like treasures retrieved from a sunken deep sea chest? Is it the tomato, as a member of the deadly nightshade family, that reminds us of the intoxicating dangers of poison? Is it the warm fragrance of yeast connecting us to the leavened experiences of all our ancient ancestors? Or is it the circular effect where we gather round together and grab in unison in a free and uncivilized fashion, greasing our fingers and tongues in heavenly delight? Shared ecstasy.
I know not. So scantily clad tattooed goddesses writhe in further ecstasy for all the fellows in park, including handsome policemen with their hanging guns and clubs, while well-fed but unhappy American masses cry out for their piece of the pie.
Rise up! Power to the pizza!
But hold the anchovies please.