The Real SanFranCRISCO treat

    William Proctor & James Gamble teamed with a German chemist named E.C. Kayser who figured out how to solidify cottonseed oil through the process of hydrogenation and introduced the magic of Crisco.  They showed the world that there is nothing handier than Crisco in your cupboard. No one can testify to this more than it's two best consumer groups, Grandmothers and Gays. For generations, they have used Crisco religiously, and have kept the product popular even in the mid 2000's when the nation-wide campaign against trans-fats threatened the entire baking industry. Combined, grandmothers and gays have spent more money on Crisco than the United States Military Food Suppliers & Preparers Corps. Gays are spending more now than ever on Crisco in these times of inflated costs and job losses, where the only price rising more quickly than gasoline per gallon is lube per bottle. 

   In 2001, Proctor & Gamble sold Crisco to the jam and jelly company J.M. Smucker.  If the P.R. people in- charge of their advertising campaign were smart, they would run an entire campaign in gay cities using a grandmother and her grandson with her holding an apple pie in one hand and he holding a dildo in his hand and the both of them smiling with their other hands held up in a fist giving a variation of the 2-thumbs-up approval sign.  The Slogan can read:

            ' WITH CRISCO FROM SMUCKER, YOUR ASSHOLE WILL PUCKER. '

  The downside of using Crisco is that it's hard to clean off of anything, and your bed can permanently smell from it, like you're sleeping in a giant pie-crust shell. I've had to recently throw out several sheets and pillow cases, and even some pillows. It's even hard to get off of yourself, especially if you're hairy like me. Usually I have to shower with dish washing detergent two or three times before the evidence is gone.

     Luckily the corner market, which never has anything I'm trying to find, for some strange reason stocks Crisco. The Asian family who own the store have no idea what most of the men buying it are using it for, especially in my neighborhood.

   "It's baking time again," I tell the husband and wife who stand behind the counter, as I put  the small tub of Crisco on the counter along with a few meticulously selected smooth, round limes. "Key-lime pie this time."

  " You always bake pies but never bring piece. You bring piece this time," the husband insisted with a smile.

    "Maybe. If it comes out." I don't think they want to taste what I'll be making.