Is this wrong? Or oh so right?

Equal Rights for All Fruits!
For My Personal Alabaman

Is it wrong to use a beautiful, fresh organic pineapple to make a pineapple casserole, such as was dictated to me by My Personal Alabaman, Mary Beth? Or is it the perfect dharma for this ignoble, retarded-on-the-outside looking fruit? Is it better to be canned, if you were a pineapple, if you were ultimately meant to be casseroled?

Perhaps we need to look deeper. Do fruit casseroles and jello salads (I use this term loosely) belong to some sort of fruity caste system? My friends, I think we both know, they do. Ohhh, cruel fate! Where is our Pineapple Guide? Well, hold on to your Ritz. I believe we can all sleep soundly tonight knowing that we have Mary Beth, whom I hereby nominate for Miss Alabaman Who Knows A Thing Or Two About Pineapple. Go, MB!

This quasi-religious experience from the South can be found all over the net, but lucky for us, MB called me and told me, and now, I'm telling you.

Pineapple Casserole, by way of Mary Beth's Grandma, or Maybe It Was Her Mom
Coupla cans pineapple, crushed, or fresh, if you are brazen. About 20 oz. worth.
5T flour
1/2 C. sugar
1 C. grated sharp cheddar cheese
1-1.5 tubes Ritz Crackers
1 stick butter (Hello, it's from the South!)

Sift flour, sugar together, blend with cheese. (eiew, I know).

Drain pineapple, grease 2QT casserole dish. Put pineapple in bottom of pan. Sprinkle flour stuff on top. Cover with crushed crackers. Melt butter, pour all over it. Bake at 350 for about 30 mins.

Now that's cooking with gaaaaaaaas!

To Z... on The Project for Development of Alcohol-Liking

Tonight I decided to get drunk, or at the very least, to drink *something*. So, I found an airplane bottle of Cognac, one of those freebies you get on a long flight - half empty from some previous attempt to drink it.

Feeling so adultish - I'm here, drinking cognac, no one can tell me not to, etc. - I pour it into an airplane glass (borrowed!!), the kind you receive "filled" with a .0004/cup's worth of orange juice on a morning flight going to somewhere you kinda, at that point in the flight, wish you weren't. Beentsy cup notwithstanding, I sit down with my tea and toast and pug, and began my private evening commitment: Tonight, We (the royal) Will *Have* a Drink. There is only .0000000078 of a 'glass' worth of the stuff, so how hard can that be, right?

Two teensy swallows later, the word 'eiew' comes to mind.

Long and short, I'm in my pajamas with the tea gone and the pug licking a bone, it's almost midnight, and the cognac is still sitting there; it is mocking my attempt at alcoholism. I can see right now I have to enjoy drinking more in order to foster that enviable membership in Alcoholics Anonymous. Or maybe someday they'll make alcohol tablets, so one doesn't even have to drink to get falling down, blind-drunk!

Now THAT would be progress.