COLON COWBOY

I love popcorn. Perhaps what I love most about popcorn is the tantalizing aroma it gives off while popping. Nothing permeates clean breathable air better than a microwaved bag, of Orville Redenbacher – Movie Theater Extra Butter popcorn. The salted buttery smell is sensually overpowering.

Don’t burn a bag of this stuff, or it turns into something just the opposite. I’ve had to open doors and windows when such happened. Years ago at work, a coworker accidentally hit 20 minutes instead of 2 on the microwave timer. The breakroom quickly filled with putrid smoke before anyone noticed.  A nasty burnt odor lingered for days. We ended up tossing the microwave and buying a new one.

I recall when ‘Jiffy Pop’ first came out. At the Jiffy Pop factory, popcorn seeds are inserted into a tinfoil lined aluminum pan. You place the pan with attached wire handle onto a stove, and as things got hot, the seeds pop. Eventually the thin foil spreads out like an inflating balloon indicating that popcorn is done.

The problem with Jiffy Pop around our place was that my wife tried to get every single seed to pop. The ones that partially exploded she referred to as,

“Old Maids.”

It never failed when she tried to pop them all, a good portion of the popcorn turned black. I was never a big fan of Jiffy Pop because of that.

Air-popped popcorn never turned me on either. It was always too dry. Adding salt and butter to air-popped popcorn doesn’t taste the same as today’s butter-in-a-bag microwave version. I sometimes called it,

“Air-pooped.”

I used the phrase to get ‘that look’ from my wife. She didn’t like me saying it. A frown always appeared before her remarking,

“That’s juvenile!”

My gastroenterologist recently told me I should eat popcorn in moderation. He said it sometimes causes lesions in the digestive system.  Popcorn husks can create all kinds of problems, especially in older people. He equated it to getting imbedded in soft tissue like it does between gums and teeth.  Oh boy……. that’s not good news for a popcorn lover!

When I mentioned this to my friend, Jeff, he told me that he’d heard the same thing from his doc. My buddy said there’s something out there eliminating the problem. That piqued my interest. I thought it odd my physician didn’t mention such?  Asking what the stuff’s called he told me,

“Colon Cowboy”.

I’d never heard of it. Jeff said Colon Cowboy rides herd in your intestinal system, rounding up stray popcorn husks making sure they head to the corral. I knew what he meant without further explanation.

Inquiring where to get the medicine, Jeff disclosed it isn’t a drug at all. He told me Colon Cowboy is actually a nickname for ice cream.

“You get it in the freezer section.”

These days I enjoy a big bowl of ice cream after I eat a bag of popcorn. I make sure to keep a couple of cartons on hand.

The other night in bed, when all was quiet, I swear I heard the unmistakable cracking of a rawhide whip, along with a deep raspy voice singing out,

“Yippee Ki-yay, git along little dogies.”

Colon Cowboy must’ve been on another roundup!