Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The study was conducted after researchers watched Babe: Pig In The City. The scientific community refused to test swine sophistication after the initial Babe release saying, "That was an isolated case of a miracle farm pig." But when Babe went to the city scientists believed it would be irresponsible not to investigate further. Farm pigs don't go to cities. Pigs might be 3-year-olds.
I didn't catch how the actual studies went but I imagine coloring was involved. Or perhaps the testing took place on a playground. Pigs with monitoring devices attached to their heads playing in a sandbox or pushing each other on swings.
Personally, I've always hated breakfast meat and ham makes me so sick I can't even tell you. I don't want to tell you how to eat but the next time you order that lumberjack breakfast or whatever, know that your bacon probably knew its ABC's.
Addition: I googled Lumberjack Breakfast just to make sure there was meat in there, and found this recipe with cooking instructions. Please take note of the note they've included. 6 Ordinary people, or one mutantly large hardworking lumberjack.
12 x Eggs
1 lb Bacon
1 lb Ham,thickly sliced
1 lb Sausage links
12 lrg Pancakes
1 qt Orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 lb Sliced bread, (or biscuits)
1 pt Maple syrup
1 lb Butter
1 qt Strong black coffee
Method: Cook eggs to order. Fry bacon, ham and sausage. Prepare pancakes. Toast bread or bake biscuits. Prepare fresh-squeezed orange juice. Prepare coffee strong and black. Great day-starter for hardworking lumberjacks.
Note: Six ordinary people can easily share one lumberjack serving.
Monday, March 03, 2008
We've seen it a thousand times. The server arrives at your table holding a steaming hot dish of whatever and tries to speak through a burning-hand-grimace. "This plate is very very hot. Please enjoy."
The server turns to grab the pepper mill and some idiot at your table moves the dish. "Ow, that's hot."
This is usually the same person who boasts of his/her tolerance to spice. "I love spicy food!" And then three bites into the Vindaloo shouts, "Gahhhk, too spicy!"
These people are related to the, "Yes, I can drink a gallon of milk in one sitting" folks, the, "Punch me as hard as you can" clan, and the, "I bet that paint's not still wet" posse. (To be fair, we're all in that posse. A "wet paint" sign is a magnet for fingertips. What are we all trying to prove?)
I think about these types of people and wonder what their family get-togethers must look like. Probably just a regular BBQ with a lot of exclamations of "Shit!" "Ouch" "Crap!" "OK, let's go again!"
I've never had much tolerance for dares and the "Jackass" phenomenon escaped me on every level. Doing something ridiculous on purpose makes no sense to me. I do stupid stuff by accident all the time. To go out of my way to plan my foolishness would require far too much energy. If I wait long enough, it'll probably happen on its own. I remember playing the board game Girl Talk as a kid and on all the dares I'd look at everyone and be like, "Now why would I do that? Five minutes from now by some unfortunate series of events, my underwear probably will be over my pajamas anyway. I'll take my chances. Oh, the zit sticker? Yea, that's fine, I'll just use it to hide this real zit."
But there's something interesting about the human condition when it comes to experiencing things for ourselves. It's sort of a, "Thank you LeVar, I believe I won't take your word for it" mentality as we all reach for the plate we're told not to touch.
Taser guns have sort of become the scotch bonnet peppers of contests to see what people can endure. Why are people so eager to volunteer to see what this feels like? I'll bet you a dollar it hurts. People don't line up on TV to get paper cuts, why do they think it's a good plan to be shot with a taser? Just take the zit sticker and sit it out, you'll thank me later.
Anyway, I was watching 60 Minutes last night and caught this report about a new military device called a Ray-Gun. It sends out intense bursts of heat and the Pentagon hopes to use it to get rid of crowds in a nonviolent way. I thought perhaps the reporter would stand in the line of fire once, to describe what it felt like, but honestly, he did it like 20 times.
All I wanted to do was yell, The plate is hot, idiot.
Also, I like how he shows up to his investigative report with plywood and a twin mattress, just in case.