Bacon grease. Fried eggs. Palm oil. Sausages. Butter. Lard. These are the tools of "Old Mister Cholesterol," a shadowy figure that haunts reenactors around the campfire at events. Many of you have asked, who is this specter of fear and death?
The first mention of this frightful apparition occurred at an event my unit did in 1989. Me and some of my pards were seated at some picnic tables eating our breakfasts near a Knights of Columbus hall (the location of the annual regimental dinner). Some rather tubby Confederate reenactors were seated nearby, discussing mutual friends. We overheard this conversation: "Yeah, he had a heart attack - at his age! Can you imagine?" A pause, while the Rebs considered the arbitrariness of life and death, and then, "Old Mister Cholesterol got 'im!"
All three of us felt a shiver down our spines! Old Mister Cholesterol - he who lives in an old shack, "just over by the bend in the river." We have since gotten more familiar with him. Appearing at our campfire breakfast circles, arm around the shoulders of an otherwise unaware Civil War reenactor, he says "How about some more scrambled eggs?" "Have another sausage!" "If you save some of that bacon grease you can fry up your hardtack to make Skillygallee!" "Why are you using Fleishmann's? Use butter! Wipe some more on that bread!" "That isn't skim milk you're using, is it?"
We know him now, and are aware of his interests. He's overseeing the formation of the Rebel Food Preparation Brigade now, but it's only a matter of time before he joins your camp. When he does, your fear begins in earnest...