Today's moment of irony

This story began this morning when the taste of a burrito from Moe's Southwestern Grill found its way to my tastebuds. Or at least to my brain. This was particularly odd since I had just finished eating Chinese food and a slice of key lime pie. Why the taste of a burrito sprang to mind or tongue is beyond me.

At any rate, I had a late appointment in Newborn, Georgia and I tried to figure some way in which I could follow this up with a trip to the nearest Moe's. So, I went on line and found that the nearest Moe's to Newborn, Georgia was in Conyers, Georgia. Newborn and Conyers are not that far from each other. Actually in adjoining counties. So it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.

But when I discussed the possibility of driving from backwoods Georgia, somewhere near Newborn, the borrowers suggested that I forgo driving to Conyers and return to Griffin by the route which I utilitized to travel from Griffin to rural Newborn the first time.

So, after my closing, I drove back down Highway 11 to Jackson Lake Road to Ga 16 and on to Jackson, then westward toward Griffin. At this point, my brain took over. I realized, as I came upon the entrance to Interstate Highway 75 North, that I could travel to a Moe's in McDonough by way of the nearby interstate.

So, I altered my route and headed north on Interstate 75. Driving up 75, I came upon the exit for Locust Grove. At this point, my rational mind took over and convinced me that it wasn't worth driving the rest of the route to McDonough, when I could get off and make use of one of the restaurants in Locust Grove.

So, I exited off I-75 and headed east toward the center of town. I remembered a Shane's Rib Shack and decided that Moe's could wait. I turned off the main road and parked in front of the restaurant.

I entered the restaurant and walked to the front counter and looked at the menu on the wall. I knew from previous experience that the barbecue pork wasn't that good. I also knew that the barbecued chicken was going to be less than stellar. It seemed that my only option was the ribs.

The price of the full rack was too high, so I ordered a half slab of pork ribs, beans, potato salad and an iced tea. That accomplished, I left the front and found a table at which to sit.

Inside the dining room of every Shane's Rib Shack are at least two televisions. In this one, there were three. All three televisions were set on CNN, which was reporting on the apparent death of Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, in Los Angeles, California.

As I sat at my table, sipping iced tea and awaiting my supper, I listened to the commentators discussing the basic facts of the life of Michael Jackson. Fifty years old. Most talented brother of the Jackson Five. Brother of Janet Jackson. Singer of many gold records. Performer on the highest selling record of all time.

Now he was dead of a heart attack at the age of fifty. At this point, a meal of pork ribs, potatoes and mayonaise and syrupy baked beans was delivered to my table. As I contemplated the apparent death of a man who was two years younger than me and in probably better physical shape, this meal of pork and carbs and fat and sugar all of a sudden didn't seem quite appropriate. Or good for me.

I ate it, of course. It wasn't like I was going to forgo the meal for which I had just paid. But I did consider my habitual eating habits, particularly in connection to my potential life expectancy. And it gave me pause. To think.

And that was today's moment of irony.