No More Parachutes.

Fox News was on.
Fox News tells me who to be afraid of. Today I learned, from Glenn Beck, that Cass Sunstein is now "THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN AMERICA"... I guess George Soros has dropped to "Person of Interest". Either way, I was listening to it while arriving for dinner, per the usual routine.
Eating dinner here is as serious as flying a plane. You've got your pre-flight check where you do your walk-around. Look at all the dishes you have to choose from, make sure to spot the questionables(food that has no origin based on first evaluation) and the variables(foods that are hard to mess up, unless they've been in the freezer too long), and scoop them up according to their questionable and variable rating.
Then you have the flight itself where, well, if you're flying with no red warning lights on, then you've passed. If for some reason, something doesn't feel right, you need an escape plan. This could be anything from a grass field to a parachute. In regards to the meal, the "flight" is the ingesting phase.
After the flight, you land and unload the plane. I feel this speaks clearly for both sides.
PRE-FLIGHT CHECK:
I arrive in the kitchen and as I'm walking be to get a glass of water, I do a careful dinner check. Immediately I sense problems. I spot my grandpa cutting up this bulbous oval looking piece of boneless meat. No need to panic though because I still had peas and baked potato on my side. So dishing up my plate consisted of one small slice of mystery meat, one baked potato, and 11 scoops of peas.
IN-FLIGHT CHECK:
I try to cut off a bite-size piece, but after a failed attempt, I raise my fork only to watch the rubbery meat re-form back into its original shape. Already, at this point, my head is filled with so much crazy I don't even hear that the TV is still on. I grab my knife and succeed in cutting it in two. During this ingestion phase, I become extremely overwhelmed by flavor. Whatever this is, it's really pretty tasty. But, back to crazy-
"I can't tell if I like the flavor of this meat" says my grandma. My grandpa slowly looks up and replies.
"I think it's really good. It's got a lot of flavor."
"Well, alright. It just said teriyaki."
After I hear this, I'm cross-referencing her description to the flavor I just had. Here come the red warning lights.
One, it was good, but it didn't taste like teriyaki. Two, teriyaki is a sauce, so THAT DOESN'T TELL ME WHAT TYPE OF MEAT I JUST ATE.
PRE-LANDING:
I ate all the food off my plate with haste and cleaned off the table. Now I'm trying to decide how I feel. I'm hoping I feel good because the meat was okay and not because I ate so little of it. If it's the latter, I'm screwed when it comes to the leftovers.
I'll probably find that out the next time Fox News is on.