Spent this afternoon in Porter at their annual Peach Festival. It was a most peculiar event. Not a lot of entertainment. Took a bit of deciding which booth to purchase the Peach Cobbler from - the purchases of Peach Cobbler being the entire reason for the sojourn to Porter in the first place. I asked one of the locals which one he endorsed. He took to waxing on the justness of certain religions and the booths manned by them and that one could chose the perfect Peach Cobbler for oneself as one chooses to worship. Specifically, the Kingdom Life group had a peculiar orange tint to the sauce that seemed not to come from the peaches themselves. Perhaps there was artifice involved. The Baptist group didn't bother with Peach Cobbler on the theory that one might be inclined to dance under the influence, so settled for Hamburgers and cold drinks at their booth. I tried to stay as true to my roots as possible, deciding that in the absence of a Catholic booth, Methodist would have to suffice. It was the right choice. We took our cobbler to a table already occupied by a man with less teeth than I have limbs and even he didn't reduce my enjoyment of the most excellent Peach Cobbler possible - except my friend Judy's.
This is too funny--it sounds like you parsed the subtext in the peach cobbler right. The best would no doubt come from a Hutterite or Amish booth.
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