What do you do if you enjoy watching semi-literates on TV on Sunday
afternoons but don’t enjoy sports?  Simple.  Switch over to PBS and tune in
“The Cookin’ Cajun,” starring Justin Wilson.  What a chef.  This guy actually
deep-fried an entire turkey once.  Used a deep fryer about the size of a
streetside garbage can, cooked the bird for about three hours, then poured
some punk concoction all over it and dove right in without bothering with
little niceties like draining the grease off the damn thing.

Justin (pronounced “Zhjeestan,” with emphasis on producing a ticklish hum
between the tongue and the roof of the mouth) and his lovely wife/producer
Jeannine boarded with me for a few days while working on a TV show in
Richmond some years ago, and we had some good times ... went through three
gallons of Sauterne and a like quantity of cooking oil in a couple of days.  Well
lubricated with the above, I quizzed the Cookin’ Cajun one evening
concerning his actual mastery of the English language.  He looked at me,
shrugged and said, “This sentence only one verb, I guarantee.”

Like consumers of other products and services, Justin’s fans can be divided
into the following subcategories:  1) Light users, 2) Medium users and 3)
Heavy users.  A light user of the Cookin’ Cajun might be described as a
person who watches the show frequently but will never attempt any of the
recipes explained thereon.  A medium user is one who has tried a couple of
Justin’s recipes.  A heavy user is one who emulates all of Justin’s culinary
technique as well as his dialect, I guarantee, and ain’t that some kind of
beautimous?

Now, a heavy user of “The Cookin’ Cajun” is probably susceptible to the spell
of any similarly themed cooking program and would, given a regular Sunday
afternoon opportunity, take notes and try recipes from the following program
concept/pilot script -- “The Cookin’ Caveman”

HOST: Ugh-Momo glad for you to see Ugh-Momo, Ugh-Momo guarantee.
Happened to have herd of mammoths near cave a few suns ago and wondered
what Great Spirit put them there for, so came up with this recipe.  Ugh-Momo
name ‘Mesa o’ Mammoth.’

Is very simple.  Need just these ... one herd mammoth, two sticks, one teeth.
First, track herd until mammoths near cliff.  Might take some suns, so take
plenty roots and grubs along for snack.

Now, this remind Ugh-Momo of story, funny pictures for mind while tracking
mammoth herd, Ugh-Momo guarantee.  Story is -- Three men walking in
primeval forest, a Cro-Magnon, a Neanderthal and an Australopithecus.
They nothing doing. Cro-Magnon say, “Why not we invent wheel, string beads
and paint faces blue?”  Neanderthal say, “Why not we make silly drawings in
Spanish caves and bury dead?”  Australopithecus (him not ever develop
laryngeal structure for speech) just grunt, chirp and whistle.  So Cro-Magnon
and Neanderthal kill and eat, Ugh-Momo guarantee.  Good funny pictures for
mind, huh?

Now, when these pictures over in mind, maybe mammoth near cliff where you
want them.  When this true, when they between you and cliff, rub two sticks
together, make light-that-ouch in dry grass and wait for mammoths to run
away from light-that-ouch and fall over cliff.  Ugh-Momo prefer when wind
strong, grass dry and light-that-ouch catch mammoth and burn off hair, but
Rhu-Luga, Ugh-Momo’s cave-leg, say she rather eat ants than mammoth
without hair.  You make how you want.  Once mammoth all off cliff, run to
bottom and teeth as much as can.  This good recipe, Ugh-Momo guarantee,
and  make you happier than cave bear rubbing against redwood tree.  Is
called, ‘Mesa o’ Mammoth...’

If this program format and recipe are too primitive for your palate, then fine,
I understand.  Stay with the modern methods.  Go deep fry a turkey.