Often Raw or Just Slightly Cooked

Often Raw or Just Slightly Cooked: More of the Shit

Quick Background: 

Unintentionally flushed the big file (Parts II-IV were lost). Part V of The Series hasn’t been written yet. Part II does tie into Part IV. Part V…well, we get there when we get there. 

For now…heeeeeeeeeeeeere’s Number Two. Get it? The title and the number?

Okay, so, humor isn't one of those talents everyone is born with (thank heavens).

But what about hunger?

Life serves up dishes of all kinds. I'd like to be able to say that I have a stomach that can handle them all. At least that's what I used to think, kind of like pride. Twisted pride that comes with a humbled sort of upbringing.

Handle all of those dishes the four-letters that spell L-I-F-E serves up? 

Look…unless it's a case of survival, being able to make a decision as to what you gotta swallow would be nice. Like food, life's dishes aren't always served up in nice, neat packages…at least not the stuff that is good for you.

And no. No amount of dough will change the fact of what you’re putting in your mouth is less than palatable. Now, like most people, I didn’t realize that I didn’t have to swallow (or even taste it).

Really?

Let's go down the menu. Yes, Let's.

A 'Delicate' Food List

Whale:

Both raw and cooked.  At first, a rule similar to “in Asia, eat, don't ask” crossed the mind. Later on, after learning about bioaccumulation, bogus science, and toxic waste, the dishes no longer appeared to be so appetizing. Can say, “Been there, done that,” but just not in front of any PETA members or fellow Greenpeace hyper-activists. 

What about dolphin? 

Dolphin:

(Hangs head in shame) Yeah, one of them too. Unknowing at the time.

The truth is, if someone from a tribe offered me a dish of something traditional, yeah, I'd still eat it, out of respect. But not anything that's been packaged and shipped to a supermarket for consumption by a faceless consumer to be thanklessly shat out of asses, thoughtlessly slid through the lap of luxury thrones. (Yeah, a run-on sentence… tis the nature of this particular post, no?).

Raw pork?

Raw oink:

Sorry Wilber.  Only once.  And not too much. The table was full of other dishes and the drunken subject of conversation swerved and staggered a little at just the right time.

Others…

Live fish:

Translucent and swimming or writhing in the cup of purportedly raw egg white and alcohol-ish liquid. The dinner was sponsored by someone high up on the social food chain, practically at the top, so I felt I had an excuse to drink my portion and ask the person sitting next to me if they’d mind if I helped myself to theirs. Definitely a case of young and hungry.

Raw Chicken:

Still drunk, young, and hungry enough (yeah, again). Only this time the body went into catch and release mode. Food poisoning sucks blows hard sometimes. What woke up as an ill, morning after feeling a deceptively safe two-meter stagger-step to the chamber turned out to be as close as the other side of the Grand Canyon. Vertigo spun the feet as the first shuffle veered to the side, cheeks clenched in prayers for safety from the visceral rumblings. Hands shot out to either side, hoping for balance. Big mistake. 

streaming tears wet cheeks

parting of the thunderous billows 

a torrid moment of release...

the heavens rain down

such fell a dark curtain

of unpalatable putrid squall
a brief moment of silence 
before the throne

The only saving grace was the falling forward onto one knee to pay homage to the immaculate porcelain bowl that was soon filled with Technicolor glory. A moment to remember. 

Raw Bovine: 

Check. Usually the luscious liver, but not lately. Let us lament. 

Raw Horse:

Yup, but mostly tendon... sorry Ed.

The “other stuff” category includes:

insect (not raw)

grubs (raw)

amphibian (cooked on coals... sort of)

rapidly slithering reptile 

(battered and lightly fried asap... before the park rangers showed up)

slowly sliding snail (homegrown)

All in the name of sustenance…  

Sustenance... 

There are some dishes I just won't try, unless I kind of have to.

Otherwise, we’ll just practice attempting to stay healthy. From now on. (Right)

But none of this prepared me for the way I felt in what will be posted in Part IV (to be put up sometime within the next 219 days).

And none of this lessened my sense of nausea when a casual remark was made about how some of the local hippies, acting on their midwives' wisdom, so ceremoniously prepare placenta. Really.