Testy Taster

A while back I wrote a blog entry about how President Obama couldn’t eat a lobster roll at a Republican lunch because he didn’t have his “taster” with him (see: Taster).  Since then I’ve got to thinking about what a strange and interesting job this would be. Imagine an employment where you are only considered useful when you keel over from strychnine poisoning? How about your year-end review? … “You didn’t find any poison … you will need to try harder next year.”  How is such a job recruited … by an ad on Craig’s List … or in the Pyongyang Daily?  Or perhaps it's that Secret Service schlub who was caught with the hooker down in Columbia … is he being forced into this duty?

How can a “taster” be identified … by a chef’s hat or perhaps carrying a big spoon?  What kind of benefits does it offer … particularly death benefits?  Why can’t this taster be some kind of scientist who performs a quick series of chemical tests on the meal in question?  Why must he/she actually swallow stuff?  This must be a pretty testy person who has to taste the President’s food.  Yes, he/she get to savor some pretty fancy vituals … until it’s over.  Then you can’t even write a tell-all best-seller book and retire.  Talk about your demeaning occupations … this has to be below flipping burgers … or even being our Secretary of State.

This whole thing smacks of a royal court … which our Presidency is resembling more and more.  Where are the jesters, the acrobats, the motley fool?  Oh, yes, we have Joe Biden ...