Luke 22:19-20 – And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you: do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after the supper, He took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood which is poured out for you.'”
Top Chef: Premiering in 2006, an American reality series where neophyte chefs culinarily duke it out over who can create the most inventive dishes. In subsequent episodes, “progressive elimination” delivers the proverbial pink slip as, one by one, contestants are dropped like hot potatoes.
Bunny Mother: Retired Playboy Bunny oligarch responsible for hiring, firing, training, the daily and mandatory monitoring of weight, and scheduling work shifts for Bunnies. Demerits were issued if grooming was less than regulation perfect: “A clean well-fitted costume, matching ears and shoes, clean, fluffy cottontail, immaculate cuffs and collar, Playboy cuff links, name-plate, and bow tie.”
Wilson, Clerow (Flip) Jr. (1933 – 1998): An American comedian and actor, declared by TIME Magazine to be “TV’s First Black Superstar.” One of 10 children and largely reared in foster homes and reform schools, Wilson joined the U.S. Air Force in his teens. Wilson’s hilarious personality and “flipped out” good nature earned him the nickname “Flip.”
Predictably, when applying for the position of Playboy Bunny, you’re instructed to bring a bikini. Deliriously dehydrated from crash dieting, you parade before the Bunny Mother in stilettos, hopefully, are hired, and before you can gain an infinitesimal gram of fat, “your costume…the world-famous image of the glamorous Playboy Club—wear it proudly” is custom crafted to your present measurements. It’s over. You’re cast in stone, destined to bulging eyes if you breathe too deeply. The only wiggle room is in close proximity to your behind and its faux fur “cottontail.”
Akin to a thinly veiled torture chamber, the Bunny costume is the first service uniform registered with the U. S. Patent and Trademark Office and can be seen on permanent display in The Smithsonian Museum. According to the official Playboy Bunny Manual, “…eating and drinking while in costume is forbidden.” No kidding. While in costume…or ever. “Bunnies must wear false eyelashes and bright, vivid lipstick accented by lip gloss. Your Bunny Mother will help you choose styles and colors for maximum flattery.” And it’s all documented—film at 11:00.
Bunnies, able to identify 143 brands of liquor (blindfolded) and artistically garnish 20 festive cocktail variations (with two paws, er, hands tied behind their backs), dispensed their hypnotically intoxicating elixirs in dimly lit lounges—all while executing the famous “Bunny Dip.” She “gracefully leans backward while bending at the knees with the left knee lifted and tucked behind the right leg. This maneuver allows her to serve drinks while keeping her low-cut costume in place.” Translated: your cleavage clears the keyholder’s ogling, slobbering leer. Compared to the “Bunny Dip,” the “Bunny Stance” and the “Bunny Perch” were no-brainers. But if you even looked at food—forget it—doomsday.
As a card-carrying baby boomer, it’s fascinating to survey the latter half of the twentieth century, particularly cultural trends regarding the corpus humanus and its slavishly obsessive maintenance. Let’s review the span of our societal behavior.
Exhibit A: Exercise. Agreed, it is very good for you. That said, earlier generations went from relative inactivity to, starting in the 1950s, jumping jack flashing with TV’s Flying Wallenda-clad Dorian Gray, Jack LaLanne. Now it’s a bona fide OCD: we’re working out religiously with or without expensive personal trainers—an obsession viral enough to prompt running in Central Park after dark? Yikes!
Exhibit B: Smoking. It was downright trendy. In the late ’60s, the Surgeon General might well have been Marcel Marceau. While cohabitating with nuns and sporting box-pleated herringbone tweed uniforms at a convent boarding school, secretly chain-smoking KOOL’s was our salvation. Decades later, society has effectively branded smokers leprous and, at least publicly, legally curtailed the All-American addiction.
Exhibit C: Drinking. Bottom’s up! I howled over Flip Wilson’s character, Reverend Leroy, Pastor of “The Church of What’s Happening Now.” But my all-time favorite Wilson personality was the prissy, self-preservationist, goody-goody Geraldine Jones. “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and I don’t do windows!” That said, with plastered Ray Milland in Billy Wilder’s harrowing film, The Lost Weekend, as a starting point, never before have so many folks, admirably, been in recovery.
And lastly, Exhibit D: the alimentary four-letter f-word—food. We’re a society obsessed! From a flabby road of trans-fatty fast food, to “flavor of the month” celebrity chefs, to endless programming demonstrating infinite techniques for grilling Alaskan king salmon—enough—we’re full! Top Chef, Iron Chef, iron lung, Aqualung, Aqua Velva…er, what were we talking about?
Hear ye, hear ye: this accelerated physical awareness has also brought various psychological neuroses to the forefront, all manifesting via myriad eating disorders—tragically, everything from anorexia to obesity. Jovial New York Times food critic and author of the exceptionally entertaining, autobiographical Born Round: The Secret History of a Full-Time Eater, Frank Bruni regurgitated his childhood of diets and disorders in a brilliant Times excerpt entitled, “I Was a Baby Bulimic.”
Starve a cold, feed a fever. Feed the body, starve the soul? Replacing the Biblical sacrificing of animals on God’s altar, the very animal has become the idol! A bona fide golden calf, we worship the Kobe beef and its labor-intensive preparation but are catatonic vegetables when it comes to nourishing our souls. The insidious removal of God from His rightful place in our world—substituting everything from the latest nouvelle cuisine to exercising our way to physical beauty—has created a highly contagious strain of spiritual anorexia.
Okay, I had to google them for clarification, but here they are, the official four food groups: (1) meats, poultry, fish, dry beans, peas, eggs, and nuts; (2) dairy products, milk, cheese, and yogurt; (3) grains; and (4) fruits and vegetables. Of course, there are limitless combinations of these staples comprising every diet imaginable. Yet my research hinted there is a possible fifth food group. Another group? I reckon the most cosmically nutritious—and hardly fifth in order of importance—would be the spiritual food group: soul food.
We are what we eat? I’ve been known to binge on sugar, but I’m not going there with you. Where I will go with you is two millennia back in time to the ritual simplicity of the Lord’s Supper. Fast forward to “The Church of What’s Happening Now.” Or, more accurately, what’s happening still. I cherish tradition and tremble at the longevity of that humble meal. What’s the muscle versus fat ratio of your eternal soul?
Do you crave sustenance teeming with spiritual vitamins and minerals that build strong souls in 12 ways? “Do this in memory of me.” Me. J.C. Jesus Christ. The original “Top Chef.” Give it a try—the last supper you’ll ever need—and never go hungry again.
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About Barbara Camp:
Baby Boomer, Catholic schoolgirl (can readily identify any plaid ever used in a parochial uniform), and ’70s Playboy Bunny (another uniform—not plaid—blue satin), Barbara Camp insists that “God writes the best fiction, known as non-fiction.” Your Soul: Fixer-Upper or Tear-Down? (The Bible Blueprint for Renovation and Rebuild!) features Camp’s short stories that translate bulletproof, Biblical wisdom (both the Old and New Testaments) into everyman, everyday, modern metaphors.
Camp’s self-described, personal, demolition derby is punctuated by big picture themes: cell phones (Tower of Babel); designer food (The Last Supper); feminism (Samson & Delilah); the Hudson River air strip (Jesus Walks on Water); DNA (The Creation of Adam); Christ’s promise of provision (The Fish & Loaves of Bread), and many more.
As we worship the created versus The Creator, our painstakingly shellacked exteriors house anorexic souls teeming with wildly dubious flim-flam. Popular thought continues to believe that the natural can cure the natural while habitually ignoring the supernatural!
“The Bible is the best-selling book of all time and, as a primer, Fixer-Upper’s ancient to modern metaphors serve as a compass for both right-brain and left-brain thinkers—be it atheist, skeptic, seeker or believer. Let not the herd mentality nor a cancel-happy culture hit “delete” on the ultimate VIP. If God is love, got God?”
Barbara’s creative professions have included set designer & stylist, fashion makeup artist (Milan, London, Paris, New York), artist & illustrator, arts & design industry recruiter and writer. Ms. Camp enjoys reading from her varied 1,000+ book library; listening to her equally varied collection of music; visiting museums; thrift stores & yard sales; photography; classic movies; designing collage scrapbooks and world travel. She lives in New York City.
Heeding her inner calling, Barbara Camp’s primary aspiration is—in all humility—to be “part of the solution and not the problem.” She hopes to avert a cancel-happy culture from hitting “delete” on the most important gift of all: the love of God. Spiritually connecting the populace remains part of an eternal solution.
Please see Barbara Camp’s Who’s Who biography for additional information: https://www.24-7pressrelease.com/press-release/516222/marquis-whos-who-honors-barbara-camp-for-expertise-in-design-and-recruitment
Please Visit: http://www.barbaracamp.com – Email: