I was morally, physically, and spiritually bankrupt until his dry rub entered my life. Wait for the miracle, y'all, it's on Hwy 51 in Hammond, LA right near the University exit.
1. We admitted we were powerless over ribs and brisket — that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a grillmaster greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of BBQ even though we didn't know the recipes or smoking procedures.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our stomachs.
5. Admitted to Elvis Presley, to ourselves and to BB King the exact nature of our culinary indiscretions.
6. Were entirely ready to have the grillmaster remove all the gristle but not all of the fat.
7. Humbly asked Him for more shortribs.
8. Made a list of all bad BBQ we had eaten, and became willing to avoid fast food BBQ.
9. Made better recipes whenever possible, except when to do so would insult the inlaws.
10. Continued to take personal inventory or all pork and when we chose poor grade pork promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through gorging and indigestion to improve our conscious contact with pork, as we scarfed it down, praying only for knowledge of pork's sustenance for us and the power to carry home some take-out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of our gluttony, we tried to carry this take-out to family members but somehow got sidetracked and came home emptyhanded.