Food For Dirty Thoughts

Hunger makes folks say some strange things. Like, “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” Because horse is decidedly NOT delicious, and would be only be consumed if one were extraordinarily hungry. I may have even made such a proclamation myself in the throws of ravenous edacity. But I can say with total certainty that I have never actually been hungry enough to eat something that wasn’t delicious for any other reason than stupidity.

Well one time I ate an un-delicious bull’s testicle for lunch, but that was because I was feeling daring (and stupid), not hungry. They told me it was a prairie oyster, otherwise I would’ve declined. Come to think of it, I don’t like oysters either. Nothing good happens on the prairie.

Delicious, daring, and lunch are three meaningless terms to the truly hungry. To them, all food is delicious because it keeps you not dead. Daring to eat food means suspecting that it will not kill you faster than starvation. And lunch means, by some miracle of God, food was eaten TWICE that day.

I know a lot of people who say they don’t eat breakfast. What they really mean is that they don’t eat traditional breakfast foods in the morning. Breakfast is the first meal of the day, whenever you break the fast (the “fast,” in this case, being the divine nightly ritual “sleep”). Breakfast doesn’t care what time you feel like eating it. It doesn’t care about your sensitive morning stomach or your tendency to retain water in the first hour of the day. You broke the fast, it’s breakfast time. The truly hungry think a good time to eat breakfast is whenever there is food. It’s a funny little quirk they have.

Hunger is an actual drive that needs to be fulfilled, but it is also a conditioned response.  We believe ourselves to be hungry because we eat frequently and according to a schedule. But this patterned internal alert system also has biologically-protective origins, too. By eating three times a day, we believe ourselves to be starving when we actually are not. But we do this so that, in the event we actually are starved, we will feel less so.

This way, we can feel hungry enough to eat a horse without ever requiring the consumption of horse meat (unless you attend public schools).

Imagine having sex three times a day, like clockwork, to the point where, one day, you found yourself saying, “I’m so horny I could fuck a horse.”  That’s craaaaaaazy! But it’s not entirely illogical. I’m sure there are other examples, but we all know I’m stuck on the horse sex archetype. It is, as the French say, the beau ideal. Time to drift off into fantasyland. Ouch, that horsey doesn’t like that.

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With the Playoffs in full-swing, we are really busy churning out the posts over at A FENNIS FOR DEMBO. Come by and check out our wares. I promise you’ll love them unless you don’t. I promise.

As for Poop or Chocolate, I need your help. In order to get frequent posts to you here, I need some assistance locating funny in the world. My time has been spent probing the ass of basketball for the last month now, and I am running out of timely topics to discuss at the P or C. Shoot me a comment or an email with a suggestion for a post. If I use it, I’ll credit you! And if I don’t, well, I credit and appreciate you now. Just for trying in the future.

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My name is Ben and I blog this request in triplicate.