This is not about global warming, but a bombastic start never hurts, right?
Right: global warning. Let's not mess about: it's common knowledge most of the greenhouse gas comes from farting cows. It's only natural for you and for the entire planet to give up meat, because this is all linked, man, you know?
Ironically, this knowledge comes mostly from another type of farting bovines. The main difference between them are the yoga pants, which one type doesn't wear and the other usually does, although in some cases the quadruped kind would look more appealing in them than their vocal biped vegetarian counterparts.
And in the opposite corner it's the if-you-don't-eat-meat-you'll-die folk. Because it's the proteins, man, know? Equally radical bunch, but opposite. And yet, the bovine mental associations return to mind. With less Lycra, though.
Although both so eloquent and rich in believable studies, these two camps reach rather divergent conclusions. I doubt the balance of truth tilts towards the proponents of aura cleansing through juicing raw quinoa or the butch beefcake squad, or if it just holds still on middle ground gastronomic common-sense symmetrically ignoring both extremes. But for the sake of such an irrelevant conflict, I'm all in for engaging either party in heated debate. Because the result is hilarious.
It's entertaining to watch raw-vegans boiling (get it?) over the slightest mentioning of a steak, but it's so refreshing. The only thing to top it off is offering tofu burgers to, well, you get it.
And that's it's. If you were expecting to find and answer or even a documented opinion, I'm happy to disappoint. But there's no need to milk a dry topic, really. It's that uninteresting.
Just stir it whenever possible, the debate is as fun as the subject is pointless. Best served cold, with a large audience.
Showing posts with label hippie end. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hippie end. Show all posts
12 March, 2015
10 March, 2015
Wait for it...
There is an amazing ritual going on in few remote villages in the central part of the African continent. When a tiger cub is born the entire village sits around the fire all night and celebrate with singing and dancing the new god's coming into this world. Lions and tigers are considered to be divine spirits of the ancient warriors. It is said for the next seven days after no tiger will attack villagers that have taken part in the ritual, even if they happened to get lost -the villagers, not the tigers- in the woods.
Or at least that's what I'd say if I were a local and tourists bugged me with stupid questions. I would also let them know there's an upcoming ritual in a couple of days, which is very lucky and rare for this time of the year -there's actually one every week in full season, usually on Thursdays but it can be adjusted to follow the schedule of larger groups of tourists- and they are most welcome to it for free, as divinity loves everybody no matter where they're from. It's one of the most important events in the village, and not many are lucky to take part in it. This should keep them in the village for a few more days, giving them more opportunity to buy more magic fridge magnets, exotic spices and traditional products crafted items crafted by the villagers. Well, there is a possibility that the factory in China where the magic magnets and traditional products are being made is magic, so there could be some truth this. And although an untrained nose may not sniff differences between the exotic spices and the mixed-grill condiments at M&S, a keen eye will spot the 'exotic' ones are 4 to 7 times more expensive. Which has to stand for something, right? Right.
During the days before the ritual, many interesting activities may be arranged, such as trips around the village, or even in the village, observing the locals in their day-to-day activities, and giving a hand with day-to-day tasks like cooking or helping around. It's refreshing and almost emotional to see several fat blokes scorching outside in the sun, watching a pot of soup boiling over the fire made of wood they gathered and cut themselves not an hour ago. All this for a small amount of money they paid the host for their trouble, but in return they get to eat natural, unspoiled food. Which is awesome, right? Right. The money will help the villagers buy more food and it will also save them from the trouble of using the electric stove which can be problematic in hot days as the electric grid is already overloaded by the fans they keep on in houses where there are no tourists around.
Trips around the village may be also arranged to watch the wild animals roam free and admire the beautiful nature and landscapes. Well, not so many animals as it's still dry season, and the animals are hiding to protect themselves from the sun; the ginger hyena is particularly vulnerable, as is the emo cobra and the gray dermato-chimp; no, it's not made-up, who would do something like that? There's a different reasonable excuse for the wet season, too, but in reality the locals are not stupid to live very close to wild and dangerous animals. Not even near made-up wild animals, but that's their little secret.
Still, there's plenty of spectacular plants to see. The beanstalk that sparkles in the full moon during the rainy season is fascinating. Simply breath-taking, you should come again and see it then. Also, the grape pineapple has some leaves that at the beginning of dry season -not now, unfortunately, you just missed them- curl up and take a shape of a grape, hence the name. Giraffes eat only those, and the fruit will not be harmed. And after ten years since they have bloomed for the first time, the trunks of dwarf banana-trees no longer float in water. This is how the locals know which bananas are better. Young bananas are more flavorful, of course. Also fascinating is the effect on the price of pineapple, beans and young bananas tomorrow at the market. What? No, it was the same price the other day, honestly.
During the evening before the ritual they'd find out the presence of strangers might upset the divinity after all, but the elderly of village could probably sort this out for around 75$/ person. African tigers are very reasonable when it comes to foreign currency. And so are the drunkards that will sing gibberish and 'dance' wearing 'ceremonial clothing' for a couple of hours during the night in front of a fire for 10$.
All in all, a small price to pay for not knowing there are no tigers in Africa.
Or at least that's what I'd say if I were a local and tourists bugged me with stupid questions. I would also let them know there's an upcoming ritual in a couple of days, which is very lucky and rare for this time of the year -there's actually one every week in full season, usually on Thursdays but it can be adjusted to follow the schedule of larger groups of tourists- and they are most welcome to it for free, as divinity loves everybody no matter where they're from. It's one of the most important events in the village, and not many are lucky to take part in it. This should keep them in the village for a few more days, giving them more opportunity to buy more magic fridge magnets, exotic spices and traditional products crafted items crafted by the villagers. Well, there is a possibility that the factory in China where the magic magnets and traditional products are being made is magic, so there could be some truth this. And although an untrained nose may not sniff differences between the exotic spices and the mixed-grill condiments at M&S, a keen eye will spot the 'exotic' ones are 4 to 7 times more expensive. Which has to stand for something, right? Right.
During the days before the ritual, many interesting activities may be arranged, such as trips around the village, or even in the village, observing the locals in their day-to-day activities, and giving a hand with day-to-day tasks like cooking or helping around. It's refreshing and almost emotional to see several fat blokes scorching outside in the sun, watching a pot of soup boiling over the fire made of wood they gathered and cut themselves not an hour ago. All this for a small amount of money they paid the host for their trouble, but in return they get to eat natural, unspoiled food. Which is awesome, right? Right. The money will help the villagers buy more food and it will also save them from the trouble of using the electric stove which can be problematic in hot days as the electric grid is already overloaded by the fans they keep on in houses where there are no tourists around.
Trips around the village may be also arranged to watch the wild animals roam free and admire the beautiful nature and landscapes. Well, not so many animals as it's still dry season, and the animals are hiding to protect themselves from the sun; the ginger hyena is particularly vulnerable, as is the emo cobra and the gray dermato-chimp; no, it's not made-up, who would do something like that? There's a different reasonable excuse for the wet season, too, but in reality the locals are not stupid to live very close to wild and dangerous animals. Not even near made-up wild animals, but that's their little secret.
Still, there's plenty of spectacular plants to see. The beanstalk that sparkles in the full moon during the rainy season is fascinating. Simply breath-taking, you should come again and see it then. Also, the grape pineapple has some leaves that at the beginning of dry season -not now, unfortunately, you just missed them- curl up and take a shape of a grape, hence the name. Giraffes eat only those, and the fruit will not be harmed. And after ten years since they have bloomed for the first time, the trunks of dwarf banana-trees no longer float in water. This is how the locals know which bananas are better. Young bananas are more flavorful, of course. Also fascinating is the effect on the price of pineapple, beans and young bananas tomorrow at the market. What? No, it was the same price the other day, honestly.
During the evening before the ritual they'd find out the presence of strangers might upset the divinity after all, but the elderly of village could probably sort this out for around 75$/ person. African tigers are very reasonable when it comes to foreign currency. And so are the drunkards that will sing gibberish and 'dance' wearing 'ceremonial clothing' for a couple of hours during the night in front of a fire for 10$.
All in all, a small price to pay for not knowing there are no tigers in Africa.
10 December, 2014
Conflicting pirates of something that sounds like Carribean but hasn't been used yet in failed puns.
OK, let’s not waste too much time!
First example.
When I was younger I used to watch many movies in which the good guy fights the bad guy for about 10-15 minutes before the movie ends. There's a pattern in the flow, which goes like this: good guy finds bad guy after having beaten everybody else in the bad guy's gang; the bad guy consistently beats the crap out of the good guy for a while; the good guy suddenly remembers the bad guy did something evil to his little sister, mistreated his family or did something nasty to the entire village (rarely did good guys come from big cities) some time ago. Based on that flashback, he suddenly becomes even more motivated and defeats the bad guy easily. There's more to say about this, but maybe some other time.
Here's another example (second example, if you're one of those people that like to keep track of such things).
When I was even younger, I used to be a pirate. Not like the ones that download music on the internet, but a proper one (well, almost; explanation below). This was hundreds of years ago, when internet connectivity was not that good, on account of not having been invented yet. To put things in perspective, it was even worse (not by much, though) than it is today in less civilized parts of the world. For instance, the area between Canada and the United Mexican States. Being an almost proper pirate meant I was sailing and searching for treasures, but I hadn't lost a leg or an arm, mainly because I find them more convenient and ergonomic than using a hook or a stump. Also, my vision was quite good back then, and my eyes were unobstructed by any patches, which can be inconvenient when trying to spot remote islands or competing/ enemy ships lurking just below the horizon. Also, patches are not easy to keep dry while sailing the rough seas. Ironically, patches are quite relevant today in the age of the modern internet and people trying to quit smoking. Those are different patches, though (I suppose you could still use a nicotine patch over your eye to kill two birds with one stone -looking like a pirate and quitting smoking, in case you got confused- but I am not certain about the effectiveness for the latter scenario). One more thing before we go back to the current example. Yes, yes, the second example; that's very good, very good indeed. You should reward your distributive attention with a cookie or a piece of candy. I don't find it easy at all to kill one bird with one stone, let alone two; either task is complicated enough to render the comparison pointless. It's a misleading trope. And stones are not that hard to find, are they? And what idiot likes to kill birds with stones, anyway?
So: I was a pirate, but I had all my limbs, didn't wear stupid clothes and didn't have a parrot talking gibberish on my shoulder. I used to find practical waterproof clothes more important than fashionably tacky black and white garment, with buckles, ruffles and bird droppings on the shoulder. No matter how cute talking parrots are, you get fed up with them after a while and are tempted to kill them with a stone.
Besides due customs or random conflicts with authorities, locals or other sailors, we'd often set sail towards remote islands where treasures were to be found. In those days it was not uncommon to find mysterious maps, which could be found in bottles on the shore or in the basement of taverns. A mysterious map should contain at least 3 of the following elements in order to be credible: a forest or at least a clump of palm trees, dotted lines starting from the trees or from a rock in the shape of a skull, a cross encompassed by a circle with rich ornaments and a big N indicating the North, the tropic of Capricorn (usually the island is below it on the map, treasure islands above it, let alone the Northern hemisphere, are rather scarce), a big X pointing to the treasure and some warning of hidden dangers lurking ahead. Also, a small lake or waterfall are not uncommon.
Once we got the map (I wouldn't go alone, I'm not very fond of waters deeper than my height), we'd face many dangers such as fights with other pirate ships (but only during storms, you never witness a fight in fine weather), over-tanning, boredom and other things which I cannot remember so I'll label them as miscellanea. Women were not allowed on the ships back then, as they were considered bad luck and the sailing feminist community was not that developed in order to come up with relevant protests. One major downside of this (besides being in the company of superstitious people) was that nobody could ask for directions when we got lost. Fortunately, fights or riots were a reliable sign you were near your destination, as most of them broke out very soon before someone on the mast would yell "Laaaaand!" Once we'd get on the land we'd go through other perilous adventures such as cannibals, poisonous insects, running out of water or food or someone from the crew running away with the map to get the entire treasure for themselves. More than often we'd find the traitor dead in horrible conditions, hanging from a tree or behind some bushes that someone would happen to go to in order to look for berries (or so they'd say). Finding their bodies was preceded by the camera zooming on the area and ominous music. And followed by cheers of people whose belief in karma was reinforced (although it wasn't known as karma back then), which was right up their superstitious alley. If there's a cave on the island, the treasure is always buried there (unfortunately, this pattern was noticed after many hours of digging in the wrong places). If there's no such cave, it's in the sand or under some scary ancient statue covered in ferns. Either way, as a rule, it's always in the furthest place from where you've parked the ship (or dropped anchor, for those more accustomed to pirate parlance).
After the tedious cruise and dangerous trip -tired, hungry and thirsty- we'd usually find the spot where the treasure was buried. Another piece of menacing music was sign we were in the right place. At this point we'd notice we either forgot or lost the shovel (digging in the sand with a knife only works in movies), and since everyone was too exhausted to get back to the ship to get another one, we'd just pack and go back home.
Well, I'm convinced at this point the conclusion of these strikingly similar examples is already quite obvious, but there you go anyway: some people will do a brilliant job only up to a certain point, while others only can get to do something only after they've been pushed past a certain point (hint: this is from the first example). Either way, everyone can be nice people, no matter how different. And regardless of where they come from and what they do, you could always learn something valuable from someone's life story. So pay attention to all people! You never know when you can exploit their stories for quasi-philosophical purposes.
First example.
When I was younger I used to watch many movies in which the good guy fights the bad guy for about 10-15 minutes before the movie ends. There's a pattern in the flow, which goes like this: good guy finds bad guy after having beaten everybody else in the bad guy's gang; the bad guy consistently beats the crap out of the good guy for a while; the good guy suddenly remembers the bad guy did something evil to his little sister, mistreated his family or did something nasty to the entire village (rarely did good guys come from big cities) some time ago. Based on that flashback, he suddenly becomes even more motivated and defeats the bad guy easily. There's more to say about this, but maybe some other time.
Here's another example (second example, if you're one of those people that like to keep track of such things).
When I was even younger, I used to be a pirate. Not like the ones that download music on the internet, but a proper one (well, almost; explanation below). This was hundreds of years ago, when internet connectivity was not that good, on account of not having been invented yet. To put things in perspective, it was even worse (not by much, though) than it is today in less civilized parts of the world. For instance, the area between Canada and the United Mexican States. Being an almost proper pirate meant I was sailing and searching for treasures, but I hadn't lost a leg or an arm, mainly because I find them more convenient and ergonomic than using a hook or a stump. Also, my vision was quite good back then, and my eyes were unobstructed by any patches, which can be inconvenient when trying to spot remote islands or competing/ enemy ships lurking just below the horizon. Also, patches are not easy to keep dry while sailing the rough seas. Ironically, patches are quite relevant today in the age of the modern internet and people trying to quit smoking. Those are different patches, though (I suppose you could still use a nicotine patch over your eye to kill two birds with one stone -looking like a pirate and quitting smoking, in case you got confused- but I am not certain about the effectiveness for the latter scenario). One more thing before we go back to the current example. Yes, yes, the second example; that's very good, very good indeed. You should reward your distributive attention with a cookie or a piece of candy. I don't find it easy at all to kill one bird with one stone, let alone two; either task is complicated enough to render the comparison pointless. It's a misleading trope. And stones are not that hard to find, are they? And what idiot likes to kill birds with stones, anyway?
So: I was a pirate, but I had all my limbs, didn't wear stupid clothes and didn't have a parrot talking gibberish on my shoulder. I used to find practical waterproof clothes more important than fashionably tacky black and white garment, with buckles, ruffles and bird droppings on the shoulder. No matter how cute talking parrots are, you get fed up with them after a while and are tempted to kill them with a stone.
Besides due customs or random conflicts with authorities, locals or other sailors, we'd often set sail towards remote islands where treasures were to be found. In those days it was not uncommon to find mysterious maps, which could be found in bottles on the shore or in the basement of taverns. A mysterious map should contain at least 3 of the following elements in order to be credible: a forest or at least a clump of palm trees, dotted lines starting from the trees or from a rock in the shape of a skull, a cross encompassed by a circle with rich ornaments and a big N indicating the North, the tropic of Capricorn (usually the island is below it on the map, treasure islands above it, let alone the Northern hemisphere, are rather scarce), a big X pointing to the treasure and some warning of hidden dangers lurking ahead. Also, a small lake or waterfall are not uncommon.
Once we got the map (I wouldn't go alone, I'm not very fond of waters deeper than my height), we'd face many dangers such as fights with other pirate ships (but only during storms, you never witness a fight in fine weather), over-tanning, boredom and other things which I cannot remember so I'll label them as miscellanea. Women were not allowed on the ships back then, as they were considered bad luck and the sailing feminist community was not that developed in order to come up with relevant protests. One major downside of this (besides being in the company of superstitious people) was that nobody could ask for directions when we got lost. Fortunately, fights or riots were a reliable sign you were near your destination, as most of them broke out very soon before someone on the mast would yell "Laaaaand!" Once we'd get on the land we'd go through other perilous adventures such as cannibals, poisonous insects, running out of water or food or someone from the crew running away with the map to get the entire treasure for themselves. More than often we'd find the traitor dead in horrible conditions, hanging from a tree or behind some bushes that someone would happen to go to in order to look for berries (or so they'd say). Finding their bodies was preceded by the camera zooming on the area and ominous music. And followed by cheers of people whose belief in karma was reinforced (although it wasn't known as karma back then), which was right up their superstitious alley. If there's a cave on the island, the treasure is always buried there (unfortunately, this pattern was noticed after many hours of digging in the wrong places). If there's no such cave, it's in the sand or under some scary ancient statue covered in ferns. Either way, as a rule, it's always in the furthest place from where you've parked the ship (or dropped anchor, for those more accustomed to pirate parlance).
After the tedious cruise and dangerous trip -tired, hungry and thirsty- we'd usually find the spot where the treasure was buried. Another piece of menacing music was sign we were in the right place. At this point we'd notice we either forgot or lost the shovel (digging in the sand with a knife only works in movies), and since everyone was too exhausted to get back to the ship to get another one, we'd just pack and go back home.
Well, I'm convinced at this point the conclusion of these strikingly similar examples is already quite obvious, but there you go anyway: some people will do a brilliant job only up to a certain point, while others only can get to do something only after they've been pushed past a certain point (hint: this is from the first example). Either way, everyone can be nice people, no matter how different. And regardless of where they come from and what they do, you could always learn something valuable from someone's life story. So pay attention to all people! You never know when you can exploit their stories for quasi-philosophical purposes.
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