Now we are engaged in a great war with vegetarianism, testing whether this BBBBBBQ, or any barbecue so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We meet at the picnic table of that war. We have come to pour a little from our forties, as a final dedication to those bovines and swines that gave their lives, so that this BBBBBBQ might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do so. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not fornicate -- this BBBBBBQ. The brave burgers, medium-well and well done, who grilled here, have consecrated it, far above our Old English 800. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they tasted like. It is not for us, the stoned and drunk, to be dedicated here to the unfilled stomachs which they who cooked have thus far so nobly filled. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these deliciously marinated steaks we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that juicy red meat shall not have grilled in vain -- that this BBBBBBQ, under former mayor Kurt Schmoke, shall get totally fucking wasted-- and that barbecues of carnivores, by carnivores, for carnivores, shall not perish from the great city of Baltimore.
The BBBBBBQ
June 13th
Below the Mason Dixon Line
Jons House-Canton-Baltimore-USA
