Doug Clark: Ode to meat-loving is worthy of a free meal

I overindulged Wednesday. Now I’m paying the price.

Yeah. I’ve got a really bad hamover.

“Urp.”

It’s my own damn fault. A guy my age should have more sense than to order a “Big-Un” barbecued ham sandwich in addition to a large basket of saucy pork ribs.

But I was trying to impress Eric Rupp, the winner of my “I Love Meat” contest.

Plus, the company was paying.

To recap: In Tuesday’s column I offered a free lunch with me at the Longhorn Barbecue as the grand prize. In addition, three runners-up will soon receive certificates worth $20 at any Rosauers Supermarket butcher shop.

And all because some tofu twerp from PETA dared me to take part in World Vegetarian Week.

Oh, I do love the view from the top of the food chain.

The rules to my contest were flank steak lean. Just convince me you love meat like I do.

Nearly 100 meat lovers either sent e-mails or left messages on my cell phone.

Many responses were quite clever.

How much does Jim love meat? “I’m looking for a vacation home within sight and scent of a hog farm,” he said.

Then there was the nameless guy who left the following …

“I love meat so much that when my cats come back with something in their mouth, I take it out of their mouth and eat it myself.”

Imagine what goes on in the ol’ litter box.

Uh, where was I?

Oh, yeah. Rupp is a 51-year-old Spokane man. He works as a Washington state grain inspector – how’s that for irony?

His musical talent is what won him the contest.

Rupp composed a ditty he calls “Meat Suite.” He sang it into my voice mail while playing his guitar. The tune is reminiscent of an old Merle Travis song, “Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette.)”

The talky first verse goes like this:

He’s a carnivore with a score to settle.

Newspaper guy wants to test our mettle.

Wants to chew the fat about how much,

We like meat.

Turkey necks or steak Diane,

Buffalo burger or Spam in a can,

A BLT – with no LT.

I loved it. But what really grabbed my gristle was hearing that Rupp spent a good chunk of his workday composing it.

Interfering with America’s work force one reader at a time.

Our lunch was a true meating (har) of the minds. He chased a Big-Un pork sandwich with a Texas Snack Tray while he told me about his life.

The son of a newspaper man, Rupp is married to Donna Krueger. They live on the North Side and have a daughter, Molly Rose, who will turn 14 in a few days.

In addition to the grub, I presented Rupp with several gifts: a trailer-festooned ball cap like mine, some guitar picks and one of my “Monoxide Love” CDs.

“I’ve never won anything like this in my life,” he said. “It’s right up there at the top.”

And now for the other lucky ducklings.

“Ethan Rowe, of Chewelah, earned a $20 Rosauers meat certificate because of the words:

“I would rather have chicken than ice cream.”

Ethan Rowe is 7 years old.

And I was worried about the next generation. Silly me.

In the message he left me, Ethan added that he asked for meatloaf on his birthday. Ethan’s mom, Wendy, confirmed all of this when I dialed their number.

I feel a deep sense of honor in being able to help give this young lad a $20 shove on his journey into meathood.

Doug Clark: Clogging tomorrow’s arteries today.

“Our second certificate winner is Spokane’s Roger Dudley.

It wasn’t that Dudley sent me the most articulate pro-meat e-mail. But when it comes to standing up to PETA, Dudley’s resume is aged prime.

In 1996, Dudley made the front page of The Spokesman-Review. The avid hunter used moose steaks and a propane barbecue to confront a PETA pinhead in a carrot suit. The encounter took place on the sidewalk outside an elementary school.

Actually, Dudley’s e-mail was pretty good.

“I have wondered for years whether plants react to pain when the plant huggers rip them from the ground and away from their family members,” he wrote. “Just because they don’t have the ability to vocalize doesn’t mean they aren’t screaming off their little leaves.”

“And our final $20 certificate goes to Jan House, of Spokane, who wrote, and I quote:

“Promise me dinner at Churchill’s or Spencer’s or Wolf Lodge and the sex will be very good.”

Now that’s what I call a carnivorous carnal commitment.

Or a carnalvore, for short.