If I had to pick a single person I wanted to cook and eat the most, it would be Jocko Willink. He has the muscularity of an adolescent beef cow as well as cold, unfeeling blue eyes that would make me comfortable with cloning him on a mass scale and slaughtering/processing the Jockos for consumption. If I had to pick one part of Jocko Willink I wanted to eat the most, it would be the shoulders. I would slice them into neat cuts of chuck. The poor man's ribeye. Of course, I wouldn't squander the shoulders trying to cook them like a proper steak, I would ground Jocko's shoulders into a lean ground human. Isn't it funny how cows in a grinder are ground beef, pigs in a grinder are ground pork, but there's no term for ground human meat yet?
Anyway, I'm getting off the subject. I truly wish to consume the flesh of Jocko Willink. This is not a post-modern joke made funny by devoting a lot of length to an unexpected subject. It's not a hatred thing, I don't want to necessarily kill him. It's not a sexual thing, I see no point in eating Jocko's penis (though I would not be opposed to creating Jocko Ham out of the flank) nor is it some primal desire to consume him and somehow become him or gain his essence. In the purest sense of communicating my thoughts, I proclaim to those of you still listening that I wish to consume Jocko Willink.
I don't know how long I have felt this way, but it would probably be as long as I have known who Jocko Willink is. I felt it the first time I saw him. A reptilian part of my brain that had lain dormant all my life, given to me as a result of knuckle-walking ancestors from millions of years in the past. A part of my brain that saw Jocko and immediately recognized him as a food source, both muscular and marbled, which could keep me alive through the winter. How much fat do you think would be in a gram of Jocko meat? This is just a temporary glimpse into my psyche for you, but these are the questions that constantly elude me.
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