O.G. HICKORYHey yo! O.G. Hickory comin’!” You hear the words, grab your jerky stash from inside the gutter and ditch the corner as fast as possible. But it’s too late, O.G.’s comin’ down the block. He grabs you. “Hold up!” he says. “You got me wrong, son. I ain’t your enemy. It’s your bosses I got problems with.” He shakes you down for all you got. Plastic-textured jerky niblets. indigestible truck-stop meat-shards. sticks made with mechanically-separated chicken. The food-stuffs of a society bankrupt on taste. Whereas O.G. is the True North t