The Critical Mass

Tastes like a six-ton bird

Paleontologists have surmised that while Tyrannosaurus rex meat probably didn’t taste like chicken, it very likely did taste like the meat from some kind of a bird. The logic is that birds and crocodiles taste similar, and both are related to dinosaurs (birds even more directly than crocs). And as a creature that roamed the plains of western North America, T. Rex was probably built from slow-twitch, high-endurance muscle. Plus, T. Rex fed on meat. So it’s more like a hawk. Dark meat.

Man, before I die, I’d love to flop some of those T. Rex steaks onto my grill. For dark meat, I’m thinking a lemon-soy marinade. And invite the whole street, because one of those animals could weigh up to six tons.

So inadvertently, I’ve started my bucket list, a phrase that’s entered the lexicon since the Morgan Freeman/Jack Nicholson film The Bucket List. As in, things you do before you kick the bucket. T. Rex has me thinking: What else do I need to do before I die?

  • See a tornado. From, oh, a mile away. As it skips across an empty field. Maybe watch it hit an old, abandoned barn.
  • Drive a 1957 Cadillac Brougham along the Oregon Coast.
  • See that novel I’m writing being sold at San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore.
  • Waterboard Dick Cheney.
  • Sit at a dive bar with Tom Waits and watch a World Series game on the TV.
  • Do some shots of tequila with Anthony Bourdain while we grill a goat in my back yard.
  • Read War and Peace.
  • Cook an artichoke right.
  • Find the guy who bought all of my vinyl record albums at that yard sale and ask if  I can buy them back.
  • Interview Bob Dylan.
  • See Bigfoot.
  • Take a ride in a flying saucer with Jackie Gleason.
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