Friday, September 7, 2007

philosophy of food*

Rocky: gazes deep into your eyes, smiling like your best buddy in the world. He's your best buddy, why wouldn't you let him eat his dinner? If that doesn't work, the smile ventures into greasy car salesman territory before it is gone forever, replaced by the sleepy godfather gaze, the calm exterior hiding the savageness within. If you wait this long to let him have his food, beware that no fingers and toes are in his way.

Arthur: eternal optimist, despite his sad, sad eyes. Stares at the food laid out in front of him, willing it to crawl inside his mouth. As time goes on, his head sinks lower and lower, pulled earthward by the tractor beam between his mouth and the food. A parenthetical observation about Muhammad and the mountain is appropriate here. If you wait long enough, his head will eventually touch the food, at which point he will decide that it would be rude to bar such delectable morsels entry into his stomach and surreptitiously attempt to eat it without you noticing.

*I am entitled to congratulations for not spelling that "phood" or "filosophy". It was hard, but I resisted.


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