Yes, this is food.

This is haggis.

These little guys are haggis balls.

You're sitting with your family in a pretentious restaraunt in Nashville drinking fine wine and eating escargot (really). On that day you've had four beers, two bourbon and 7's, something called a cherry bomb, about 58 holler and swollers, and more Merle Haggard than you care to remember. You try to pretend for a moment or two that you are a civilized family, when some loudmouth at another table declares how much she adores haggis balls.

You know that fit of laughter that hits you so hard you can no longer move or make a sound? The kind of laughter where you sit there with your mouth wide open and your eyes transfixed while your body turns to a hopeless mass of gelatin that shakes and wheezes? That seizure has taken over your whole family, and you stare at your dad just waiting for the Ravenswood Vintner's Blend Merlot to come spewing from his nose. You have a mouthful of $28 steak with hollandaise sauce, and hope that it's not pouring between your fingertips as you use your hands as a dam across your clenching teeth. Then the waiter comes over to fill your water glasses and stares wonderingly at the family with that guess-I-had-to-be-there look.

Well. I guess you had to be there.