Song Of The Day 4/3/2016: Mojo Nixon & Skid Roper – “B.B.Q. U.S.A.”

Grilling season begins today. I opened the grill for the first time in five months yesterday. There were some little continents of mold over the grill assembly and the flavorizers. Didn't flinch. Got some BBQ-specific Easy-Off at the store. Came home. Carpet-bombed the hell out of those demon spores. Cried no tears. Tested the burners. Burner #3 was being bitchy. Then it tried the sympathy route. Bawled about how insufficient it felt 'cause I use the space over it for indirect grilling and it feels under-used. So it just let some of its flame holes get oxidized and gunked over. Oh yeah? Then why isn't Burner #4 crying its eyes out? Burner #4 never gets used for anything but indirect grilling. Barry White couldn't even turn Burner #4 on. What's your excuse, #3? Nothing. Yeah. Figured. Fine, I'll scratch your back with some wire brushing. Seemed to do the trick. Whimpered a little but it still did the trick. Everybody's happy now. Went to the kitchen. Made the barbecue sauce under cover of 9:30pm darkness. Ketchup. Brown sugar. Lightly browned garlic. Worcestershire. Apple cider vinegar. Onion powder. Garlic powder. Mustard powder which I ground up myself from whole seeds. Allspice. Oregano. Sage. Homemade chili powder. Ginger. Coriander. Dash of Louisiana hot sauce. Passion. Ambition. Contempt. Spite. Unresolved adolescent issues. The cries of the newborn. A stray serif from a botched Guy Fieri tattoo. It's all good. It's in the refrigerator. I am unavailable for golf on Sunday. Sing it, Mojo.

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