By SoDak
Eating shit, from time to time, seems to be part of life. This past year, Wilco served up a bowl, which they called Cousin. The presentation was not promising (see the horrible cover). At first, I thought the dish was filled with gazpacho, as there was no steam emanating from the contents. Upon devoting my attention to what was before me, I realized there were ten meager spoonfuls of excrement. This meal was not the product of a “normal” bowel movement. Instead, it was mostly a pale, brownish liquid, with fragments of previous meals—perhaps, the last diarrhea squirts of someone preparing for a colonoscopy. The first spoon of shit, “Infinite Surprise,” confirmed that there was no substance to this fecal mess. The second, “Ten Dead,” was a warning of what happened to others who spent too much time trying to nourish themselves on this offering. The third, “Levee,” was broken, as I spent four minutes of wallowing in sewage. The fourth, “Evicted,” made my wife leave the room. The fifth, “Sunlight Ends,” confirmed that Wilco can no longer see clearly. The sixth, “The Bowl and a Pudding,” reminded me that I am only halfway through eating this excretion, while wishing there was a sweet treat to be had in this experience. During the seventh, eighth, and nine spoons of crap, “Cousin,” “Pittsburgh,” and “Soldier Child,” I was left contemplating why I subject myself to this, especially when Wilco uses an outside producer, such as on Wilco (The Album). The final spoon, “Meant to Be,” was the tastiest, as it contained some remnants of a digested meal, which sunk to the bottom of the bowl.
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