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When’s Dinner?

“When I can get up again, silly,” Crystal said, replying to God. She was being admonished ever so slightly for her self-neglect. It was a pattern in her very core, something God couldn’t really program out of her (nor did She wish to, it’s what made her darling child so darling, you see.)

“I know I’m not great at taking care of myself… maybe if my future husband would take a little time planning meals for me, that would help. I can make them, I just don’t know what to make for when. I never have cravings anymore, or at least, none that are relevant,” she continued on, knowing God would appreciate full disclosure.

“I get so busy taking care of my parents that I forget about myself, which is no good. I don’t feel great today and that means underperforming in general, which means tomorrow might be worse if I don’t get that protein you wanted me to have.” Crystal realized it was stupid to keep talking about food when she could just go make it, so she vowed to do that. Too bad her body ached with every movement… it was the true reason she didn’t want to stand over the stove some more.

“Well, I can at least eat from the big vat of soup I made yesterday. Mmm… cabbage soup!” God giggled at the girl. She knew the human being was trying to make the food sound exciting, now that it was her third meal in a row for the day. It was not boding so well nutritionally speaking, since the diversity of her diet left something to be desired, but at least she was trying to eat.

Every day, God found new reasons to be angry with the males of Crystal’s species. They were ever so trying, you see. Their insecurities (and stupidity) was leading her dear child into the worst storm to weather yet: eating, but never being satisfied. That is because, children of Earth, a woman cannot eat what a man can eat. Men adapted to hunting, roving in packs far away from the collective of women. They would eat fruit and root vegetables. Pretty much anything that didn’t cause them to feel poisoned.

Women, on the other hand, ate primarily lean meats and vegetables. The reason the meats were lean, however, are not because the tribe focused on turkey or chicken. It was because they cut the majority of the fat away in order to bring back the most important part of the kill: the organs and the meat. Often, they also brought back the bone, because it meant it was easier to carry and most of the fat was easy to find and cut away, tear away, or rip away. Can you imagine trying to carry an entire bison or buffalo back to the women? You’d want to leave something behind. In fact, you might have had to, if your hunting party wasn’t big enough to handle all of it.

Then, your kill would roast on a spit for days, slowly being cooked through to the point where you could cut away an inch or two and feed yourself. This would expose more of the interior, the less-done portion, which continued to roast on a spit… until all that was left was the bone it all attached to, which may or may not be used to make tools or soup broth. It depended on the tribe and time of year, primarily. Sometimes, the bones did both jobs.

Now, you get to sit behind your glowing computer screens, sipping a latte made with beans grown in a completely different country. Your milk came from a farm you don’t even know anymore, but you trust it because the FDA hasn’t murdered you yet. Your breakfast cereal is manufactured on big farms, who edge out small time farmers and force them to basically be hillbillies with nothing to do because they’re paid not to make food. They’re paid so that food has a cost, so that money continues to work. (Why don’t we just pay them extra if they don’t make enough to keep afloat and let them farm organically for the local market? Oh yeah, then you might be able to fucking EAT.)

What? Produce would be next to free if every farmer in the United States farmed their land. No pesticides needed whatsoever… just let the bugs keep what they take. Ship the rest to the super market to sell. Or, better yet, a farmer’s market so you cut out the middle man. Then you could get to know your farmers once again, America.

Everywhere else, there are a plethora of fruit and vegetable carts. It costs pennies to the dollar to eat. This may not be true on islands around the world, but that’s your own issue to deal with, island folk. In Italy, there are food carts full of fresh produce everywhere. Every 2-4 blocks, you can buy fresh food, ready to eat. Even the baker and the butcher are much more reasonable, because you get to buy only what they have… not exactly what you want.

Thus, America is the capital of food waste, in addition to being the only nation that purposefully tries to kill its citizens with food practices that are barbaric at best. Monsanto’s bottom line is more important than any human being, don’t you know?

The real question is… is it spreading? Are you reading your food labels carefully enough? Is sugar sneaking into your meals despite the fact that everyone knows cane sugar feeds (and causes) cancer? How is it that Europe can decide sugar is unhealthy and the United States still throws it in everything, from French fries to pasta sauce to soup to every fucking cereal on the shelf? The FDA apparently approves of it in everything. It’s in every sauce on the shelf, every baked good you buy (even sourdough bread!), and pretty much anything you consume.

Despite the fact that sugar causes and feeds cancer, I have another issue with it, God says suddenly. Sorry to derail you, kiddo. The problem I have with it is that it’s an addictive substance, much like crack/cocaine, except it takes about thirty to sixty years to kill you and it makes you completely miserable the entire time you consume it. In fact, it’s what makes you have cravings. Without sugar in everything you eat, you will just be generically hungry and can make good decisions about what to eat (hopefully), and therefore you would lose weight without even trying.

But it’s in everything. It’s why my poor darling Crystal has to buy the raw ingredients to everything she makes, then cook it up with whatever spin she wants to put on it. She cried at the sight of cookies today. She wants cookies but can’t bend over again and again just to slip a sheet pan in and out of the oven a half dozen times. (She bakes and cooks for a party of three thanks to her retiree benefactors. Even though she has cancer, it’s still her job to take care of them.)

Unfortunately, her father is so addicted to sugar that it’s impossible to separate him from it. It never made him preposterously fat like it did to her and her mother, of course. At least now he’s not complaining about his pants always falling down from weight loss. He has epic problems from this sugar habit, but instead of changing, the medical industry just does surgery after surgery to save his life. He doesn’t deserve it. None of you do. My babies — the skunks, the raccoons, the opossums, the deer, the bears, the tigers — they deserve the space you take up. Hell, the trees deserve the space you rotten assholes take up.

Today, she bought pork ribs. She’s not even really able to eat pork… none of them are. But she bought them anyway, thinking I told her it was a good idea because it was marked down. I think this will be the last time pork comes into this home, but who knows? There’s still five pounds of bacon and a giant pork butt in the freezer. When will they learn their lesson?

Oh, I imagine never, Nick, if you keep on buying cheap ass pork to feed them. They eat whatever comes into the house because not doing so is waste. They know the hard times, the lean times. They know food is not to be wasted. Food is sacred. It’s the difference between life and death for them. But you don’t give a shit, limey bloke in England, infesting Crystal’s brain with your bull shit and your anger. You’re a cancer all unto yourself, and I’m digging you out this time. I’m making you cease. You have not learned that it is not a good idea to rape people, so now I will rape you. Until the end of time, actually. You have hurt her for nineteen months straight. Day in and day out, you pervert her mission to feed herself well so she can get better. It’s happening to all people, everywhere: people who hate you are wishing you’d eat whatever it is you cannot eat and you browse along the aisles, grabbing it without much thought until you regret it later. You sabotage each other because you have no idea what love truly is.

I’ll tell you what love is. It’s cheering someone else on without expecting a return on your investment. It’s having a conversation without demanding something from someone else. Listening without necessarily having to pitch in and spread your anger or hate around to someone else. Instead, you listen and you support.

In fact, I’m going to take a shortcut. Here’s true love, right here:

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