Oranges and Oranges

You're looking at $50 bucks worth of fresh fruit. And no, this isn't a post about inflation, the skyrocketing cost of "groceries" (not a word a lot of people use these days), or the dystopian banana republic the king has foisted on us. 

At least that is my intention, but these things have a mind of their own and who knows where it will lead? 

Considering the darkness of the past year, at least from January 20, I want to make the last post of 2025 a light one. I'm hoping you also enjoyed yesterday's impromptdu interview with Mr. Bill, the real Mr. Bill from our stoner teen years.

The two "oranges" you see above are homegrown. That should give you some idea of why each one is priced at $25. You see I bought the citrus tree online from a company called fastgrowingtrees.com

That was three years ago. Despite frequent waterings and nearly 300 days of Southern California sunlight, it sat in my front yard and looked like...oh how does Ms. Muse phrase it..."like something out of a Charlie Brown special."

Cue the sad trombone music.

Suffice it to say, I do not have a Green Thumb. I did have a Green Toenail when I was running 10k's and marathons. Then it turned black. Got thick. And literally fell off. Didn't mean to leave a bad taste in your mind. 

Yet.

Then I was told about this gardening miracle appropriately called Miracle Grow, thank you Ms. Muse. After months of carefully deep sixing the fertilizer into the soil by the base of the tree, staking the spindly trunk to a piece of rebar and monitoring its revitalization, my baby sprang to life. Well, sort of.

I wanted to clip the two orbs on the left the minute they began to lose its verdant green hue, but I was advised to wait. Oranges, like grapes, need time to mature. So that once the rind is pierced it can reveal its full sweet and tangy self.

Well, this past weekend, with the house full of Weinblatt woman and Siegel Girls, we unsheathed a sharp Henckel's chef knife and sliced the orange into sixths. We each took a piece and put my money where their mouths were.

Ahhhhhhhhhh. 

Worst. Fucking Orange. Ever.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! See in 2026, hopefully when the Epstein Files bear sweeter fruit.