On New Year's Day in 1837, in the little hamlet of Buzzard's Hollow, Kentucky, a farmer named Melvyn Ambergris refused his wife's delicious Hoppin' John.Don't be a Melvyn. Eat your Hoppin' John today or at least some black eyed peas in one form or another.
"I refuse your delicious Hoppin' John!" he said. "I will not perpetuate either this superstitious nonsense nor the cis-normative patriarchy that forces you to make food for me!"
With that, he went out to do his chores. Later that day, his normally passive mule, Betsy, pulled a gun on him and shot him to death.
They may be the only thing standing between you and a mule with a gun.
4 comments:
I was gonna say, "Because my grandma would rise up and diss me nine ways to Sunday if I didn't!"
How sad am I? The only superstitions I ever knew about were the ones I was intentionally taught in school; this includes not only ladders and mirrors and black cats and salt-over-the-shoulder, but also Santa and that Bunny.
Oh wait! Speaking of salt: when I was real little, my Dad told me that if you put salt on a bird's tail, you can catch it. Though, this is less a superstition and more a sending your kid on a voluntary snipe hunt.
I made Hoppin' John for my family. I am not a good liberal feminist, but I am a decent cook.
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