where hypotheses come to die (madman101) wrote,
where hypotheses come to die

pickles, pomegrantes and beets - a diary According to Food

So, once again I am proven right. The latest popular scientists are saying that the tiniest insects have as much capacity for CONSCIOUSNESS as "higher animals". As I've been saying all along, "A smaller head only NEEDS but a few cells to think! A tiny brain is perfect for whom that insect IS! The bug is no less aware than you or I!" Verily. A bug has PLENTY 'nough neurons to be able to count, and do math. SCIENCE SAYS SO nah nah. (Damn, they're good at math - and so are birds!) Insects aren't little robot machines. They think. They feel. They go on vacations. They eat pizza. I say unto you. I knew all this since I was a little boy-monster, watching two (2) ant-hills go to war with each other simply because I had messed with them. But really, there've been many more profound observations beyond that.

When you kill a bug, you kill a thinking, feeling universe. And if souls do linger, then so do the souls of bugs. Like fricken gnats, they are. GNATS! Get off me! Ech! But it is not like I am a Buddha. In fact, I have no qualms with the act of murder, in some circumstances, such as stepping on a spider ewww. (Spiders, btw! : Spiders and Octopi and other 8-based brains are probably the most intelligent of all!) Although individual bugs seldom directly threaten our lives, many bugs, as a race, must be stopped. Bugs are generally happy-go-lucky, innocent individuals, lollygagging about and banging into plate glass. But when they gather en masse, they are KILLERS, I tell you. That is why it is sometimes OK to murder cute little adorable bugs. No, it's all right.... *sob*

But that is not to say that I look down upon them as deterministic little robots! Like all the popular people do! Nay! It is those amongst us, who see bugs as such, and such, WHO ARE THE TRUE IDIOTS. I mean, how can you dismiss Fruitflies-In-Love as, "Mere INSTINCTUAL behaviour..." INSTINCTUAL BEHAVIOUR? What does that even mean? "INSTINCT." It is just another convenient LABEL for saying that we understand something when we DON'T. It is just as superstitious as saying or believing that witchdoctors and totem poles rule the weather or that bankers are destroying our country.

And therefore, in dedication to bugs, I write the rest of this post the way a bug might do it if it were me...

POTATOES AND KETCHUP was the first thing I ate today. Salt, pepper, onion powder, parsley flakes - yum yum. Unfortunately, this apparently sent me into a diabetic crash an hour or two later. I've never been diagnosed with diabetes - I call it "Virtual Diabetes" - it is a complex of symptoms identical to diabetes, and part of the CFS package. But I try to tell people how serious it can be, and they don't believe me. It doesn't happen a lot - I don't know why it decided to happen today - only that my various "migraines" have the added bonus of shutting down very important body processes. Anyway, I quickly spiralled into nausea and weakness. Soon, I was in the kitchen eating anything I could.

PICKLES: It's funny - I absolutely relish relish, but I am repulsed by sweet dill pickles - which are basically unchopped sweet relish! But there's a happy end to this story. So do not fret. I recently accidentally bought some pickle spears that said "NO SUGAR" on the jar. Great. They gave no indication that they happened to be sweeter than a honeybee's knees. But they were. SO wut I did was pour out the sucralose/vinegar syrup, and filled the jar back up with lemon juice and very salty water - (saving the syrup for my beets). About a week later, I tried those pickles, and they were the most delicious things I ever tasted

ROTISSERIE CHICKEN: After eating two sweet pickle spears, I turned my attention towards a rotisserie chicken squawking in the meat drawer, which was a nice contrast, and a pacifier for Dog. I'm not supposed to eat meat. It usually gives me diabetic crashes.

HALF A POM: Then I flew towards the half-Pomegranate sitting on the stove-top, all burnt. Now, let me tell you, there is nothing so disappointing as a Pomegranate which is not completely ripe. It's like having sex with a blow-up doll you happen to call George Bush. That is no way to eat the noble Pomegranate. So, what I does earlier dis mowning was to sit half an unripe Pomegranate on the stove and burn it. I guess it helped a little - but NOT ENOUGH! It tasted like damp campfire logs or, with some strained imagination, burnt marshmallows. So I fed the rest of it to Eve, my imaginary housekeeper.

CORN CHIPS: After that, I hauled away a big bag of tortilla corn chips to my den. They were made with sea-salt, and were COMPLETELY GLUTEN FREE YAY! But they didn't taste like corn chips, they tasted like corn FLAKES. I'm thinking of writing to Kroger's about this, when I have time and luxurious leisure in another life, presumably when I return as a horsefly.

ON BEETS AND THE MEANING OF LIFE: I have not eaten any beets today, yessir. And that may be the secret - of something. I do have a large pot of over-cooked beets awaiting pickling by me in my pickling hat. And upon them, I will shower sucralose syrup, apple-cider vinegar, salty water, lemon juice, and beet juice! And at the end of the day I shall feel ACCOMPLISHED. And me and Dog will be as happy as bugs in a rug. In a very old, damp, musty, disintegrating rug that smells of hobo piss. Anyway, I will be doing an important post on TUBERS soon, so look forward to that!!!

Even though I'm logging off now, to rest, I'm spending the better part of my day with LJ. Hopefully, some of that will include catching up on long-gone comments. Long-gone - that's an odd sounding term. Sounds like it came from DANCES WITH WOLVES.

And that, my friend,is the meaning of life. (47)
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