It was the year of our Lord Twenty Twenty-Two during a time of chaos and consternation across this once- great land of ours. 

Food supplies were running short due to a convergence of economic, geopolitical and climatological factors, which some folks had the gall to suggest was due to government incompetence. 

Some people even believed in wild conspiracy theories that it was being done intentionally to reduce the population or to offset global warming, which was threatening the future of the human race. 

At the same time that worldwide shortages were sweeping the globe, the price of food was skyrocketing and wrecking many family budgets, where parents were forced to choose between feeding their families, paying their rent and/or filling the tank with gas. 

We were asked to accept these sacrifices because they would make us stronger in the long run.

One day during this trying period, I was riding home from an outing to my favorite bookstore, Mr. K’s, located in East Asheville. 

I had just purchased a new treasure for my book collection. It was a book titled “Spontaneous Evolution” by Bruce Lipton (cellular biologist) and Steve Bhaerman (comedian).

 One might really wonder what happens when a renowned cellular biologist and a comedian collaborate yet, for some reason, it made perfect sense to me. 

In the preface Steve writes:

“Comedy is a wonderful way to tell the truth and a way to break through the mind’s defenses….”

These were real words of wisdom — and if we can’t laugh at ourselves, who can we laugh at?

As I was driving about that day, haunted by the specter of having little or no food to feed my voracious gourmet pallet, I had a great revelation. 

It was late July in Asheville and temperatures were soaring into the low 90s. It was stifling, to say the least — weather too hot for man or beast. 

Behold! Suddenly I began to see on the side of the road various unfortunate — obviously heat-crazed — creatures who had the misfortune of being struck by automobiles and other forms of transport that were common on the roads. 

My mouth began to water. First a deer, then a gopher, a racoon, a weasel, several cute rabbits and a squirrel or two…. 

It suddenly occurred to me that I could take advantage of Asheville’s robust “road-to-table economy.” 

I decided that day to open Asheville’s newest restaurant “Dave’s Roadkill Café.” Imagine “Venison a la tracteur,” or one of my fav’s “Basket of Deplorable Stew,” which you could have served with an artisan cocktail named the Hillary Stinger. Another favorite is flat gopher steak and one of our greatest delicacies, Steve Martin’s Brevard White Squirrel soup with parsley and pepper. 

But something did not ring right about the name of my café. 

The name Dave was too ... WASPY. 

For those who don’t know what that means, it stands for “White Anglo-Saxon Protestant” (which I — regretfully — admit that  am). 

I knew I had to come up with a name more indigenous to Western North Carolina. Then I remembered the rugged handyman who used to help us around the house. 

A nice fellow in overalls with long hair and a beard. His name was Clyde. 

Perfect…I thought. 

So we named the new restaurant “Clyde’s Roadkill Cafe” — has kind of a nice homey ring, doesn’t it?…Although probably not to the families of the canceled critters that made up our fare.

Clyde was quite agreeable to our using his name as long as we gave him an occasional bowl of Weaverville weasel and biscuits — with a side of grits.

It was truly a unique place: MAGA hats allowed, bikers welcome, those on Zelensky’s hit list and even patriots who might have been at the Capitol on January 6th 2021! 

This restaurant, I was sure, would be hailed as a source of good, healthy nutrition. 

We did not have any processed foods with all those poisonous artificial ingredients. 

To think that the World Economic Forum was suggesting that we learn to eat bugs as a source of protein.

One of our specials Pisgah Possum Roast had been renamed Pelosi Shrew….I mean Stew. 

All dishes were served with a side of Bloody Fauci Jabs (fries with spicy homemade Ketchup) or Biden Bites, which were stuffed mushrooms Ivermectin. 

We tried not to be too political sounding in our offerings…and guess what? We failed! At least we’re making the effort to build back better, within the struggling restaurant industry. 

Unfortunately we got a letter from the FDA that they had met in an emergency session and decided that they were going to have to ban the serving of roadkill. 

Among other reasons they cited was that this practice was barbaric and a possible encouragement to white supremacists who might use our restaurant as a gathering place for plotting to overthrow the government. 

They also felt that raw black-eyed peas could make deadly projectiles at a time when mass shootings were on the rise. 

I did get a letter, however, from (Russian) President (Vladimir) Putin, asking if we would be serving our famous Buncombe County beaver borscht — and that’s not just a bunch of bunkum.