To Mong, or not to Mong

Monging is perhaps my 3rd favorite career choice. Now, I know, purists will say, "But Andrew, there's too much diversity these days in the monging industry. Fish, cheese, fish-flavored cheese, sausage, ferrets." Bah! I say...after haberdashery and good old-fashioned under-water basket-weaving, monging is king! That would make it, say, a duke really. Or prince. But I don't want to get sued by a spaghetti sauce. They break-a my legs.
But the F.K. (Formaggio Kitchen, a true cheese shop in every sens of the word) would probably win the superlative of "Most likely to have an independent security force in 10 years" award, if they don't already. They could be training them in the cheese caves as we speak. Being exposed to overly ripe Epoisse, forced to breathe in an open Marcetto, and then required to spend a fortnight with only a Casu Marzu to give them the nutrients required to stave off death. Yes, my friends, you shall be doing research to see what all these cheeses are, but so be it. You see, you learn when you read my quirky mind-gunk. I'm like milk for your brain...I make you strong! I don't know if this milk=strength thing is true though, as I was forced to consume canned O.J. whilst my pre-school mates downed those awesomely-constructed 1/2 pints of milk. Chocolate even! And you know the sound of something slightly wet sliding out of a can...that sucking, slick sound, that audal Kryptonite to an already weakened Lac-tard such as myself? But I made it, weak bones and all!
Whoever invented that stuff is evil, by the way. And was apparently born without taste buds themselves. Who thinks they can really pass off frozen, canned, orange juice concentrate and not expect repercussions somewhere down the line? I hope his dog was torn apart by a pack of stray cats, or something just weird enough like that. And while we're on the subject, fruit punch flouride? Cherry-flavored ANYTHING? Where the hell did they get the cherries to use as a basis for that flavor? The fields just outside of Chernobyl?
But back to the cheese. Indeed, I fear the future, when country lines break down (as we have already begun to see with the introduction of the Euro, erasing even a small part of a country's identity with the dissolution of its unique currency), and large food conglomerates have private security forces, and wars will rage over whether American cheese should be neon orange, or that pale pasty white that I can only relate to my own skin, sans freckles. This will be known as the War of Kraft vs. Land O' Lakes, and Laughing Cow will surely be called in as the Blackwater-esque special forces. Creepy. But true!