We were all better off when things weren’t yummy.

3 Nov

Once upon a time, the act of eating simply kept us alive. It provided bodies with nourishment, energy, and only the occasional spat of gas.

But things were good. Nutritionally speaking, anyway. Food, on the other hand, didn’t taste very good.

But that was fine. Because no one knew what they were missing.

Then someone or something came along and fucked it all up.

They somehow added flavor. Whether it was by adding heat. Adding salt. Mixing things together. The mystery person or persons discovered that food could … gasp! … be pleasing.

Everything quickly went to hell in a bread basket.

All of a sudden, gnawing on this grass wasn’t as appetizing as chowing down on the fluffier grass from that other field behind the dinosaurs. Several gatherers died in the process of getting that tastier grass. And that meat that the hunters brought home? It wasn’t worth eating unless it had soaked for a day in the tasty water from the shore. And then heated. Mmmm.

Then years later, some pervert squeezed a cow’s teet and took a sip. And then fucking figured out how to make butter and cheese. After that, anything that wasn’t soaked in butter and dripping in cheese became offensive to taste buds.

And that’s when bodies became soft and hearts clogged with grossness.

Tasty, tasty grossness.

Sometimes when I’m buttoning my pants, I curse the births of the people who originally made food taste good. But when I take a bite of pie or enjoy some ranch dressing, I praise them all over again.

If we hadn't of stood up, stoves would be a lot lower today.

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