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Message
An Illustrated History of the Origin of BBQ (May be NSFW)
Posted on 7/3/20 at 6:26 pm
Posted on 7/3/20 at 6:26 pm
The 4th of July seems to have become our National Day of BBQ. With that in mind, I have donated my posting privileges today to the esteemed Socio-Anthropologist Dr. Zerobear Polybear, who published a paper in the Fall-2019 issue of the "Journal of Irreproducible Facts" detailing the historical origins of BBQ.
Here is Dr. Zerobear's article for your enjoyment.
An Illustrated History of the Origin of BBQ
By:
ZeroBear PolyBear, BS, MS, PhD, SOB, LLP, MD, Etc.
***
Chapter 1:
Any treatise on ancient culinary arts would be incomplete without a journey down the smoky pathway to the time when that most sacred of manly cooking methods was conceived.
No, Bumbulla, we’re not talking about the first instance of Crock Pot Cooking.
Our reference is to the day when BBQ came into existence.
Let’s drift back to days before Smokey Joe’s Kansas City Rib Rub.
We’re going back to times before the first Texas chuck wagon chef left a brisket too close to the bean fire.
even before King Nebuchadnezzar got his Campfire Badge in the cub scouts.
Let’s go back to those misty prehistory days of flying reptiles,
Geckos you could saddle and ride like a horse,
and guys named Gringe,
Grog,
Ugga,
and Doody.
Let’s turn the clock back to about One Million BC and days that predate Homo erectus,
and Homo sapiens neanderthalensis,
to that earliest human upright ancestral form, Homo harriestdudas.
(To be continued)
Here is Dr. Zerobear's article for your enjoyment.
An Illustrated History of the Origin of BBQ
By:
ZeroBear PolyBear, BS, MS, PhD, SOB, LLP, MD, Etc.
***
Chapter 1:
Any treatise on ancient culinary arts would be incomplete without a journey down the smoky pathway to the time when that most sacred of manly cooking methods was conceived.
No, Bumbulla, we’re not talking about the first instance of Crock Pot Cooking.
Our reference is to the day when BBQ came into existence.
Let’s drift back to days before Smokey Joe’s Kansas City Rib Rub.
We’re going back to times before the first Texas chuck wagon chef left a brisket too close to the bean fire.
even before King Nebuchadnezzar got his Campfire Badge in the cub scouts.
Let’s go back to those misty prehistory days of flying reptiles,
Geckos you could saddle and ride like a horse,
and guys named Gringe,
Grog,
Ugga,
and Doody.
Let’s turn the clock back to about One Million BC and days that predate Homo erectus,
and Homo sapiens neanderthalensis,
to that earliest human upright ancestral form, Homo harriestdudas.
(To be continued)
This post was edited on 7/3/20 at 6:36 pm
1
Posted on 7/3/20 at 6:27 pm to MeridianDog
An Illustrated History of the Origin of BBQ
Chapter 2
Our culinary journey back in time takes us to the first night of the full fall moon
And a happy band of naked men,
dancing in fevered ecstasy
around a roaring fire.
Their bodies are smeared with mud
accented with magical sacred and mysterious markings
In the yellow of ocher and stark white of clay.
Sound comes to us as they mimic the noise of the hunt, moving to an inner rhythm of the heart,
thrusting their spears
toward the fullness of the moon
In a manner nearly identical to the rituals followed by hunters at deer camps in these times, and shouting out the oldest of ancient magic chants.
“Boom chucka lucka lucka”
“Boom chucka lucka lucka”
“Sally's got her red dress on!”
The intensity of the dance continues through the night as they whirl and swirl around the dying embers,
urging the appearance of the first rays of the sun and the beginning of the hunt.
Finally dawn arrives
And, with a sure intensity of purpose
they strike out to take on the massive woolly mammoth during his fall migration down I-75 from Michigan to Orlando and West Palm Beach.
From the moment they leave the safety of the clearing and hunter’s fire, they will be in his element.
They know this and salute him with one last Brewski before taking to the woods.
Our historical recounting now shifts to the mighty hunter, Ugga
as he sits atop his Cabelas Tree Climber® Wooly Mammoth tree stand.
He has been quietly scanning the forest primeval for hours now, anxiously watching for the signs of an approaching mammoth, but, sadly, seeing nothing.
The six cans of Red Bird Sausages
and the three potted meat sandwiches on Bunny Bread
he consumed with the gusto of a hound dog at the campfire last night
are doing a job on his gut and he finally decides that he can wait no longer.
He must shinny down to the ground and go see a man about a dog. He has barely begun to relieve himself behind a convenient bush when he looks up and sees
the biggest beast he has ever encountered is charging directly toward the bush and him, enraged by the stench of his digestive void.
Ugga is a mighty warrior; a hunter without equal
And he immediately responds to the charge, running away from the beast for all he is worth, screaming like a little girl.
This tactic does not deter the beast at all and the animal continues to close fast on Ugga. Death by stomping is within only a few feet when Ugga trips over an exposed root and falls to the ground. His spear flies free from his hairy hand and at the end of a perfect two revolution flight, impales itself squarely between the mammoth’s two beady eyes.
The beast takes one more step and then falls at Ugga’s feet, dead, dead, dead. Ugga can’t believe his skill has triumphed yet again.
Within minutes, he has removed his switch blade flint knife and fashioned a drag sled from a few hickory
and apple wood limbs the beast had plowed to the ground in its charge. He covers the beast with a layer of aromatic leaves and savory herbs to chase away the flies and within an hour he is happily making his way back to camp, pulling the beast along behind him as he sings the sacred song.
“We are the champions my friends.
And we’ll keep on fighting till the end.
We are the champions.
We are the champions.
Da, Da dada da...
Da Da dada da…
Champions, Champions
Da DA dada da”
Ugga has come within shouting distance of his camp when a sudden thunderstorm passes overhead.
He ducks under an outcropping of rock as the lightning flashes again and again.
Then, in a flash, disaster strikes.
“NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
A lightning bolt has struck the sled and the flames are rising fast. There is no way he can extinguish the fire and so he watches helplessly as the sled is reduced to a bed of coals beneath the fruits of his labor, smoking in the wet leaves and herbs. He is sadly standing beside the remains when a strange odor drifts into his hairy nostrils.
What’s that wonderful smell? Hickory and apple smoke? Fragrant herbs and spices?
He pulls a morsel away from the tender flank of the Mammoth and chews thoughtfully. What has he discovered? What has reduced this carcass to a flavor suitable for the gods?
After careful consideration, he decides you could make a fortune selling this stuff at the spring t-ball tournament.
At this point, his wife and the love of his life, Sheila,
comes running up the pathway to Ugga.
She has been pulled toward him and the now fully cooked beast by the fragrant deliciousness of perfectly smoked mammoth wafting toward her on the afternoon air.
She takes one look at her husband and with irritation in her voice, tells him,
“You’ve been gone a week. Is this all you got? Alicia’s husband Grog, brought home two of these and a mess of hippo ribs yesterday.”
AAaaaaarrRRRRrrrGGGH!
*** finis ***
Chapter 2
Our culinary journey back in time takes us to the first night of the full fall moon
And a happy band of naked men,
dancing in fevered ecstasy
around a roaring fire.
Their bodies are smeared with mud
accented with magical sacred and mysterious markings
In the yellow of ocher and stark white of clay.
Sound comes to us as they mimic the noise of the hunt, moving to an inner rhythm of the heart,
thrusting their spears
toward the fullness of the moon
In a manner nearly identical to the rituals followed by hunters at deer camps in these times, and shouting out the oldest of ancient magic chants.
“Boom chucka lucka lucka”
“Boom chucka lucka lucka”
“Sally's got her red dress on!”
The intensity of the dance continues through the night as they whirl and swirl around the dying embers,
urging the appearance of the first rays of the sun and the beginning of the hunt.
Finally dawn arrives
And, with a sure intensity of purpose
they strike out to take on the massive woolly mammoth during his fall migration down I-75 from Michigan to Orlando and West Palm Beach.
From the moment they leave the safety of the clearing and hunter’s fire, they will be in his element.
They know this and salute him with one last Brewski before taking to the woods.
Our historical recounting now shifts to the mighty hunter, Ugga
as he sits atop his Cabelas Tree Climber® Wooly Mammoth tree stand.
He has been quietly scanning the forest primeval for hours now, anxiously watching for the signs of an approaching mammoth, but, sadly, seeing nothing.
The six cans of Red Bird Sausages
and the three potted meat sandwiches on Bunny Bread
he consumed with the gusto of a hound dog at the campfire last night
are doing a job on his gut and he finally decides that he can wait no longer.
He must shinny down to the ground and go see a man about a dog. He has barely begun to relieve himself behind a convenient bush when he looks up and sees
the biggest beast he has ever encountered is charging directly toward the bush and him, enraged by the stench of his digestive void.
Ugga is a mighty warrior; a hunter without equal
And he immediately responds to the charge, running away from the beast for all he is worth, screaming like a little girl.
This tactic does not deter the beast at all and the animal continues to close fast on Ugga. Death by stomping is within only a few feet when Ugga trips over an exposed root and falls to the ground. His spear flies free from his hairy hand and at the end of a perfect two revolution flight, impales itself squarely between the mammoth’s two beady eyes.
The beast takes one more step and then falls at Ugga’s feet, dead, dead, dead. Ugga can’t believe his skill has triumphed yet again.
Within minutes, he has removed his switch blade flint knife and fashioned a drag sled from a few hickory
and apple wood limbs the beast had plowed to the ground in its charge. He covers the beast with a layer of aromatic leaves and savory herbs to chase away the flies and within an hour he is happily making his way back to camp, pulling the beast along behind him as he sings the sacred song.
“We are the champions my friends.
And we’ll keep on fighting till the end.
We are the champions.
We are the champions.
Da, Da dada da...
Da Da dada da…
Champions, Champions
Da DA dada da”
Ugga has come within shouting distance of his camp when a sudden thunderstorm passes overhead.
He ducks under an outcropping of rock as the lightning flashes again and again.
Then, in a flash, disaster strikes.
“NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
A lightning bolt has struck the sled and the flames are rising fast. There is no way he can extinguish the fire and so he watches helplessly as the sled is reduced to a bed of coals beneath the fruits of his labor, smoking in the wet leaves and herbs. He is sadly standing beside the remains when a strange odor drifts into his hairy nostrils.
What’s that wonderful smell? Hickory and apple smoke? Fragrant herbs and spices?
He pulls a morsel away from the tender flank of the Mammoth and chews thoughtfully. What has he discovered? What has reduced this carcass to a flavor suitable for the gods?
After careful consideration, he decides you could make a fortune selling this stuff at the spring t-ball tournament.
At this point, his wife and the love of his life, Sheila,
comes running up the pathway to Ugga.
She has been pulled toward him and the now fully cooked beast by the fragrant deliciousness of perfectly smoked mammoth wafting toward her on the afternoon air.
She takes one look at her husband and with irritation in her voice, tells him,
“You’ve been gone a week. Is this all you got? Alicia’s husband Grog, brought home two of these and a mess of hippo ribs yesterday.”
AAaaaaarrRRRRrrrGGGH!
*** finis ***
This post was edited on 7/3/20 at 7:53 pm
Posted on 7/3/20 at 6:31 pm to MeridianDog
Thank you for your service. 
Posted on 7/3/20 at 6:41 pm to MeridianDog
Can someone please post an applauding gif
Posted on 7/3/20 at 10:32 pm to MeridianDog
I think I'd rather read a TulaneLSU troll thread 
Posted on 7/3/20 at 11:13 pm to Matisyeezy
Rather Read Tulane Troll.
Not to worry. I only have this one in me.
Sorry to mess up your fourth of July Holiday. Drop by and I'll make you a brisket sandwich if that will help ease your suffering.
Have no chips, but I do have some nice BBQ Pork Skins
Not to worry. I only have this one in me.
Sorry to mess up your fourth of July Holiday. Drop by and I'll make you a brisket sandwich if that will help ease your suffering.
Have no chips, but I do have some nice BBQ Pork Skins
This post was edited on 7/4/20 at 12:05 am
Posted on 7/3/20 at 11:38 pm to MeridianDog
Posted on 7/4/20 at 3:06 am to MeridianDog
Posted on 7/4/20 at 5:10 am to MeridianDog
Thanks. That was a great way to start the day.
Happy 4th. of July y'all!! 
Happy 4th. of July y'all!!
Posted on 7/4/20 at 6:29 am to MeridianDog
One guy dragged a field dressed mammoth (live weight about 6 tons) to camp on a sled? He must hit it hard on leg day.
Posted on 7/4/20 at 6:37 am to Matisyeezy
quote:
I think I'd rather read a TulaneLSU troll thread
well your opinion sucks so...
well done OP
Posted on 7/4/20 at 7:09 am to MeridianDog
This board needs more MeridianDogs and fewer TulaneLSUs.
Posted on 7/4/20 at 10:21 am to MeridianDog
Well done MD!
Posted on 7/4/20 at 6:41 pm to MeridianDog
I may have spoken too soon, the cookie cake thread was painful.
I want to apologize to the board for using his name and summoning him from his cave. My bad.
I want to apologize to the board for using his name and summoning him from his cave. My bad.
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