Yes, I realize it is now Saturday...sorry (not sorry).
The Atomic Cow Deposition
The old man was crazy to be sure.
A respected doctor in his day,
he had become addicted to painkillers
and booze
and had lost his practice and his wife
back in ’74.
Since then, he mostly moved from state to state
writing himself prescriptions
and holing up in cheap motels.
He had saved old newspapers and at night
he would tie one on and reread
the horrible news about Kennedy’s
bloody trip to Dallas
or Truman’s bold bomb-drop
on all those sneaky, efficient Japanese.
So it was no surprise to those who knew him
when his diagnosis of stomach cancer
finally sent him over the edge.
He found an attorney in an old building
downtown, just above his favorite Chinese restaurant
and he showed him a clipping from ‘57
that proved beyond a reasonable doubt
that the U.S. Government had conducted nuclear tests
on unsuspecting citizens, and it was clear to the old man
and to his starving lawyer that some of these tests
resulted in the old man’s dying gut.
So they concocted a case against the FDA
alleging the farming and slaughter of atomic cows
and the Agency’s approval of the meat
for sale to the American public.
In his deposition, the old man swore he’d once eaten
a glowing steak and had vivid recollection
of a hamburger in Vegas that, though delicious,
had caused his hair to fall out and his teeth to turn yellow.
When the judge threw out the case,
the attorney committed suicide and the old man
gathered his newspapers and clothes in a trunk
and moved to Omaha
where he died in a field
deposing a loose-lipped cow
which had been dying
for someone to just listen.
