I remember when you first used that line, all the way back in the early 80s. Yes, I was but a year or three old. In my mind, the cranky beef craving granny is linked with another pivotal experience of my earliest youth. I was sitting in the recliner, left alone by myself in the darkened living room during “The Wizard of Oz”, when the flying monkies took Dorothy, Toto, and me completely unawares.
I had no recourse but to surround myself in a warm, pungent layer of my own poo, right there in the recliner. Monkeys be damned, if they were going to come through that screen and abduct me from my loving home, they’d pay a price.
Things have changed Wendy. “Where’s the beef?”
The beef’s right here, baby, all grown up and ready to kick some flying monkey ass.