On Bacon and crises of the existential variety

I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, but I can’t give myself to Bacon. For one thing, I’m married. I’d maybe consider him if I was still single and looking for something to lay on my plate, but, well … I’m already well and truly committed, hook, line and sinker to his Italian fratello Signor Prosciutto. Secretly, also, I’m having a recent little affair with his distant cousin (or, as I like to call him, his brother from another mother), Jamon Serrano. Call me picky, but I’m partial to a little Eurotrash. Then – if I’m living LARGE and getting out of the Eurotrash zone, I’d like me some Jamon Iberico please. Just don’t tell my husband Signor Prosciutto. He thinks he’s big in Europe. He is, but in an overexposed kind of way; somewhat like Ibiza, and all of its Embarrassing Bodies in the popup clinic on the beach.

Shall we swing north a little to the German Black Forest and its delicious little piggies? Nope. I’ll leave them for you, because I’m generous for one, and because I’ve also drowned in a vat of sangria under a ton of Jamon. Mmmmm.


Offputting, what? Zombie prosciutto hand, GET IN MY BELLY!

Offputting, what? Zombie prosciutto hand, GET IN MY BELLY!

Ummm.. what was the point of my post? To wipe the drool off my keyboard? Yes. And also to point out that, since we are all only separated by 6 degrees of Kevin’s Bacon (cos that dude must have got his Foot Loose around a WHOLE lot more than just middle America), we need to reach some kind of committed stance on Bacon. And the Bacons. And how people who are called bacon probably should not eat Bacon (did I just confuse my capitalisation? You can see the potential problems inherent in names as foods and vice versa) as you can see how this could cause problems.


Francis Bacon, TOTALLY AWESOME DUDE, and also a quite good philosopher, statesman, scientist, lawyer, jurist, author and all-round guy, circa 1500-1600s, brought us some very important thoughts on just about everything. Particularly the modern scientific method. So in his free time he just sat around, thinking about how his name was the same as a food, I’m sure. Despite his 100 shades of wow, apparently he wrote years later of his regret at not having married the young widow who was snaffled away by the lawman with the modern multinational moniker.

Mr 16th century Bacon (not to be confused with Kevin, as, you know, time travel and Deloreans are just in the MOVIES you silly rabbits) was to have married a young widow, Elizabeth Hatton, who broke off their engagement to marry for money. The modern day multinational equivalent, if you will, Sir Edward Coke. This guy was a barrister, Chief Justice and politician. Despite Bacon being a dude, he was a poor dude, while Coke CJ had CASH and influence. He’s the daddy of common law. So much so, in fact, that we spent many delightful hours picking apart his words in Law 101. He was a multinational arse, though, and seems to have married Liz purely because Bacon wanted her. Bacon was a true intellectual, philosopher, and thinker, while Coke was 100% law-man, investing spare energy in tearing his competitor down. I think we will call him roast pork. Too long in the oven. Overcooked and very dry.

So back to the modern day, and I’m left asking what it all means. What is the square root of bacon? All this thinking about Bacon as a pig and a food and a person, and then as a philosopher, and then how we’re all, in fact, separated by only 6 degrees of Bacon has brought me to my little existential crisis. That is the logical endpoint at which to arrive from these meanderings, surely?

And that's all I have to say about that.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Bacon, for all his wide-ranging interests, and fingers in different pork pies left his political career in disgrace, and with regrets. Coke? Dry pork man? He focused and won. I don’t like this analogy if I apply it to my life, because I feel like I’m attempting much and winning at nothing. But neither do I want to be dry pork.

Paulo Coelho, one of my favourite writers but also a philosopher in my eyes tweeted some pretty great words the other day that I’ll be keeping close. ‘Feign madness but keep your balance’.

In bacon terms, and Bacon terms, I think that means to eat prosciutto hands with relish, enjoy a little from all of the cured pig food groups (balance, see?) skip the regrets, and avoid drinking Coke or watching spills, because that shit will rot your brain.


Horizontal on the Lounge this week, guzzling a pinot gris with Slapdash Mama, cos it goes so well with bacon.


[Picture Credit: Zombie hand - http://www.collegehumor.com