PolackPappy and the incredible edible egg

On my last visit to the McPolack homestead PP gave me a dozen eggs. But these were no ordinary eggs. They came from 18 hens owned by members of an Irish Catholic family populated by alcoholics whose taste for booze had led them to backslide from a life of education and class into one where toothlessness is deemed a-ok. There are also some sober alkies in said family, and Pp was attending a birthday party for one of them. The eggs were, I suppose, the swag.

Anyhoo, these were by far the best eggs I have ever eaten in my entire life. The. Best. And I have eaten mannnnnnnnnnny eggs. I was bragging about these eggs to OSB this weekend, and she showed me her eggs, which come from happy hens near where she lives, and were different sizes, much like my Irish alcoholic eggs. But when I scrambled a bunch of them up, while they were tasty, they weren't the same.

Could it have been due to the lack of poo smears on OSB's dozen? Because some of my eggs had chicken poo smears on 'em.

Well, yes, at least according to the PolackPappy Egg Bureau. When I asked Pp last night about the difference in taste, he said that even grade-A eggs can be up to six weeks old. Whereas the eggs he gave me had "just slid out a chicken asshole that morning, covered in slime. It's the freshness. No, wait, it's the slime."