comfort food ... from g-d?

So, it's come to this. I thought we as a people had peaked (and possibly even piqued) with the cinnamon bun that looked like Mother Theresa. (Though, it totally did.) But now some yokel in Florida (yes, the Florida that we can all hate unabashedly thanks to "palmetto bugs," CSI Miami, and TWO presidential elections ... stoopid Florida) is claiming to have a 10-year-old grilled cheese sandwich mystically adorned with image of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Feh.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm all for crazy mysterious apparitions of the BVM. Who isn't, really? But this? I just don't see it. Joan Crawford? Bette Davis? Myrna Loy? Maybe. Mary, Mother of G-d? Nope.

But the real question here obviously is--what was on the other half? Clearly, the owner was famished--note the big ol' bite out of the bottom left corner. Did she hoss down the other half so quickly that the world is now denied the images of Joseph and Jesus and Mary (or, if you go with the Thin Man interpretation, William Powell and Asta and Myrna Loy) on a grilled cheese?

G-d only knows what appeared on the surface of the bowl of Campbell's tomato soup she slurped down with the sandwich.

figuring things out with K

K has roused my from my sickbed to try to set this up. I think my fever is under 100 degrees right now, but that could just be thanks to the fact that I haven't turned the heat on in my apartment yet today. So, are we working, K? Or are we workin'?