The Last Supper

Well, I have to admit I got a chuckle out of this one. Did any of you hear about what happened on Wednesday in Texas? Apparently, a filthy individual who was being put to death made an outrageous request for his last meal.

He ordered:
Two chicken fried steaks, a triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, fried okra, a pound of barbecue, three fajitas, a meat lover's pizza, a pint of ice cream and a slab of peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts.

PMS, anyone?

In the end, prison officials said the disgusting animal didn't eat any of it.

But here's what's funny---besides the fact that I could probably eat that on any given night while worrying about Roc---within hours, the Prison System decided that offenders would no longer get to choose their final meal. They will now receive the same meal served to other offenders on the unit.

First of all, I find it funny that when people want something done, it gets done: quickly. Maybe that's just the way things are in Texas. Then my thoughts wandered as to why he didn't eat the feast. Was it his way of thumbing his nose at the system, wasting just a few more taxpayer dollars before breathing his last? Perhaps he was so nervous about his impending death that he just couldn't eat anything.

We'll never know.

Of course, all this brings me to my question of the day. If you had a last meal request, what would it be? Mine would have something to do with lobster and pasta...a big hunk of ciabatta bread...and some type of peanut butter cheesecake. Your turn. Go!