A Beef With My Cheese

Cheese is the nectar of life. Much like hotels, cheese comes in a four star rating system. Four star cheese is the swiss cheese you get in Switzerland that is so fresh it never once went into the refrigerator and was probably only taken from the cow earlier that morning. Three star cheeses are the cheeses you find at the market in the deluxe deli section, sometimes called the overpriced cheese. (Overpriced, yes, but delicious.) Two star cheeses are the cheeses you find in the dairy section. These tend to taste kind of gross, usually causing the consumer (both eater and purchaser) to wish they’d opted for three star cheese. One star cheeses are the cheese products that may or may not really be cheese. This family includes your nacho cheeses and squeezy cheeses. However, counter to what the four-star rating system should imply, one star cheese tend to be ten times more delicious than two star cheeses. That’s just how life works.

Anyway, I bought a huge bag of string cheese last week (not actually its own kind of cheese, but rather cleverly packaged mozzarella). Each individual delicious cheese stick includes a kid’s joke where the punch line is revealed only when the cheese-eater opens the cheese packaging. The jokes are properly cheesy, which is super duper since they accompany cheese. However, my joke last night was clearly wrong. The trouble is, I can’t remember what the joke is to relay its lameness to you. I realize this drops the bottom right out of this whole entry so I am going to have to ask you just to trust me on this one. Besides, the temptation to use the title for this entry was too great, well formed argument or no.

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