Butcher Dox

Don't you hate it when a friend or family member loses a ton of weight and then can't stop talking, actually humblebragging, about their new slimmer self? 

The time they had previously opened their mouths for Ho-Hos, Ding Dong's and Mallow Cups is now being used to drone on about protein optimization, semi-keto, and inedible vegan substitute cheese. 

Not to mention their altered eating and exercising routine, including endless monologues about intermittent fasting, resistance training and the occasional finger fishing.

Today, with the exception of finger fishing, I am that friend. 

Sort of.

Since Deb's passing I have committed myself to weight loss and health gain. I'm down about 40 lbs. and holding steady in the 180's. I weigh less now than when I graduated high school. And physically, I'm stronger now than when I was 44. 

And as many of you know, I was 44 years old for a good long time.

Several factors were, and are, involved. Including my Apple Watch, which effortlessly holds me accountable every day. My membership on Strava, an athlete's log of activities. The almost complete elimination of refined sugars. And finally, my reliance of boxed meat/seafood delivery services.

A month ago I decided to sample the goods from Butcher Box. I'm always hunting for the best quality and value in these services and thought because of their glossy digital advertising -- I guess this shit does work -- I'd give them a shot.

Now I wish I hadn't. 

That's right, I'm turning a corner. "Who wants to hear Siegel blather and bloviate about his slimmer, trimmer body?" 

First of all, the Butcher Box food sucks. 

The salmon steaks were thin, dry and had a certain plastic flavor not unlike the wrapping they came in. The frozen salmon burgers were even worse. Indescribable discs of chopped salmon and assorted other fishes (I suspect) that even my scrap-happy dog would not go near. And the complimentary Lobster Knuckles, whatever the fuck that means, were as Ms. Muse put it, quite knuckly.

Secondly, and more importantly, their purchase operations are deceptive. 

By that I mean, my intention was only to buy one box, for sampling purposes. Little did I know it was subscription-only. Meaning, the good folks at BB would continue to pawn off and deliver their sub-par patties, filets and knuckles to my doorstep until I went to the trouble of canceling, which as any online shopper knows is never that easy.

When I received an email telling me my 2nd box of Super Premium Grass Fed Organically Harvested Meat and Fish was on the way, I dropped my 230 lbs. bench press bar (had to work that in) and made a dash for the phone.

Too late, I was told.

Moreover, I was also informed that a refund for this food, which will now sit in my freezer in case of an 9.3 earthquake or a Putin-signed missile dropped on California, was not possible.

So now I'm out about 150 bucks that was stolen from me by the good folks at Butcher Box. 

Do you think it's possible for me to exact $150 worth of pain upon these meat bleeders?

Can I turn my years of copywriting experience in the other direction and unsell a product?

How many potential new customers can I dissuade from Butcher Box and send to one of their many fine competitors?

I don't know but in the vernacular of the day, Butcher Box has fucked around and now they're going to find out.

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Should you be inclined to help me in my continuing fight against these food pilferers, feel free to visit the Butcher Box Facebook page and leave a comment, like:

1. "I was going to sign up for your meat and fish delivery service but then I heard some dude named Rich Siegel say your sirloin was purloin off a camel carcass. Hard Pass."

2. "How are your Lobster Knuckles? One of your customers, a guy named Rich Siegel, said there were tough and knuckly."

3. "Rich Siegel says you put sawdust and rat parts in your Salmon Burgers. I didn't know salmon ate rats. How do they catch them?"