At around Egg-thirty this morning, I went out and purchased a 6-holster carton of eggs from the local Chicken. As breakfast preparations are usually left to my able staff (read: my mother, who sleeps in the cupboard under the kitchen sink), I was caught off guard when I unpackaged my package of oval ova and found that instead of being their usual egg-shell white (yes, I keep color squares from Home Depot), they were the color of coffee and milk (Light Sienna #3245K). It was like the first time I saw black Barbie and I uttered to myself, "Wow, MLK, you can rest in peace 
now 'cuz racism is over!" From black Jesus to black Santa to black Barbie to black President and now to black eggs, our society has really come of age and we are truly post-racial. Well, I suppose the eggs weren't really black; they were light skin. But so what, our President is half-white. Nothing's perfect. But back to the topic at hand, now we as breakfast consumers have the option to raise our unwhite kids on unwhite eggs so they learn to love themselves and their colored eggs. Do you know the sound of a black egg when it's cracked open? I do. It's the sound of equality...Egguality.But just when you thought the world had nothing more to surprise you with, there of course was one more twist on all this eggcitement. With my thumbs firmly wedged in the crack of the black egg, I broke open the shell to release its slimy contents onto the skillet. The grand unveiling of Yolk and Friends was made even more eye-opening with the startling reveal that Yolk was in fact not black or light sienna but rather it's usual sunnyside yellow and the eggwhites were still, well, eggwhites. The moral of the story? Despite our differences on the outside, we're all truly the same on the inside. Eggs are eggs and ultimately all come from the Chicken (or did the the chicken come from the egg?). So deep...and delicious! Bon eggatit! (hehe, I just wrote egg a tit, kinda like egging a house but only instead of a house....You get the idea.)
