Posts Tagged ‘diet tips’

Soon there will be no more hunger!

At the JC Laboratory, we were discussing the most cost effective distribution methods.  A colleague, who I shall simply refer to as bucket head, was working on piped toothpaste.  In the fight against decay, he wanted there to be no excuse that the tube had just run out, and wished to pipe toothpaste into every dwelling in the land, just as radio was piped into every dwelling in Soviet Moscow (who knows what plaque causing program people might tune into if they had a radio they could control).  Cost estimates for the infrastructure were proving prohibitive, when I realised how to do it cheaply – CGI pipes!  CGI pipes required no digging, just an initial investment in software, most of which we could surely steal from somewhere.  If we wait until ‘The Simpons’ finally finishes, there will be untold Korean animators available to assist in this project.  If they were coupled (asexually of course, this is not that sort of blog) with their North Korean counterparts who, when they are not building “satellite rockets” and “peaceful nukes”, are simply hacking into everything going, that would solve the problem plus reunite the Korean peninsula.  Yes!  We are rolling out the patents now, so don’t try to get in ahead of us. Plus, we have our own peaceful nukes, and own the rights to most of your DNA, and you wouldn’t want us to withdraw your access now, would you?

The next stage will be edible CGI.  I know, I know, the technology is not there yet, but soon, we will be beyond the mere confectionery stage (where we are with 3D at the moment), and a credible edible food source will be available anywhere there is the internet.

Now I know what you are thinking.  Not everybody deserves to eat.  They don’t work hard enough, they don’t pay taxes, they already get enough government hand outs.  We plan to set up a think tank on this with Romney Corp (hey, I have to prepare for my retirement too!)  Mr Romney never said there were people who weren’t worth feeding.  He just said there were people who shouldn’t have government sponsored cordon bleu shovelled down their throats.  Who can argue with that?  We are just looking at a bare level of nutrition, to keep everyone going, but not that they would enjoy.  Think of it this way: we will give 3D films to the whole world, but we won’t be distributing any glasses.  That way, we keep the hungry happy (well, happy-ish, with their stomachs full, but blurry), and we don’t upset the rich too much either!

(For other developments in the World of Chip, look here.  your mate would appreciate any help on the spam thing.)

Forgive me please, I have tried.  I try to be good.  I want to save the planet, the trees, the whales.  I believe in conservation, I really do.  I am a nice shade of light green.  However, no matter how hard I try, I cannot eat recycled food.  If food has already been digested by someone else, I just can’t eat it.  I know it’s the future, I know it is necessary, but I cannot do it.

 

What is wrong with me?  Does this make me a bad person?

Never put other people’s eyes in your mouth, you never know where they’ve seen.

Hey, I’m a manly man*.  I know its cool to suck on eyeballs and then crunch down and pop them so gunk flows out, but I confess, I just can’t do it.  I can’t eat something that something else has been looking out.  Except perhaps a window.  But that’s for another post.

(However, it is ok to lick the blind.  But not a window blind.  Ironic?  No, just stupid.)

*says me.

…the horror…

…the horror…

Reader, I cheat again, but you will see why if you click here

Here at the Joe Chip Laboratories, we try not to eat the living.  or even bits of the living.  And you wonder how the zombie apocalypse is actually going to start – its going to be with guys like these.

“Ma, I don’ feel so well.”

“You look awful – you bin eatin’ anything strange?”

“I didn’t eat it, it were only in my mouth but a moment.”

“Well Bubba stop chewin on me!”

[HP Lovecraft would envy my dialogue.]

Stolen from Mr Battersby.

Those of you who have been subscribing to the analytical reports of the Chip Laboratories since ancient times know of our well founded efforts to ethicise (ha! take that, dictionary) omnivorism.  We are trying folks, we really are.  We have put all of this week’s grant money into considering balloon animals.

Some of you maybe scoffing, as you associate these creatures with parlour games and carnivals.  However, I am not talking about simple domesticated balloon animals.   I am talking about great sweeping herds of massive fortean creatures, blocking the sun on their nomadic trek as passenger pigeons once did sweeping across America.  And no, there would be no reliance on foul, poisonous oxygen.  These are great helium or methane filled beasts, nodding and swaying as they are blown by the currents of wind, just as giant jelly fish are swept across oceans.  Picture them now in your mind, see them billowing and filling the sky.  Tremendous storms of them.  The wondrous sight of them as they rail against the elements, indeed as they rail against their own ridiculous existence.  Observing them as over time they are pitted by hail, scarred by lightning.  And the wonder of them is that their pseudo life is no life at all, it is a mere impersonation.  Brave balloon bound hunters shall pursue them without ethical quandary, intrepid mountaineers shall stalk them to their winter homes, small children and we here at the laboratory shall wonder at them.

O!  If only we could get some nutrition into their skins!  Some flavour into the rubber.  Some texture into their form.  And find some way to stop giant sea turtles from choking on them in their thousands when they critters deflate and drop into the sea.  Perhaps it is impossible.  But is not the dream as important as any mere actuality?  At least this dream can unite us all, omnivores, carnivores, vegetarians, vegans, fruitarians, lacto-vegetarians, lacto-ovo-vegetarians, pescetarians, pollotarians, and pollo-pescetarians, the dream of the hunt of the giant pseudo-beasts in the sky that can sustain us all without troubling our consciences.

Until then, at least we have salad.

[“Life’s Solution” by Simon Conway Morris, p112 ‘Fortean bladders’]

After extensive experimentation in the Chip Laboratory, it has been determined that despite many claims being made about their inherent nature, flags are essentially flavourless.  It is the nature of a flag that it may be likened to a thin bland filo pastry, dependent upon that which it envelops for its flavour.  A flag may be an encasing on a sausage roll, or it may have a fruity filling.  A flag may also be thought of as tofu, useful for soaking up the flavours in a laksa, but otherwise, bleh, what is the point.

A flag may also have other useful qualities.  In Glossolalia, they are often flown from expensive (and unnecessary) utes*, so that upon awakening from a drunken stupor, the driver knows what country they are in.  However, my view is that there should be very little call for a nation’s flag to be flown within the borders of that nation.  Really, the only flags that should be flown are those of other countries, at their embassies for example.  Otherwise, one could just have a piece of material with the word “FLAG” printed on it, because barring some damage to brain, we all know what it is.  The only flags for domestic purposes should be those associated with the things that separate us, not the things that bind us, like flags for sporting teams or service organisations (you know, like Lions will kill Rotary, that sort of thing), or schools or perhaps class (for example, a flag signifying ‘intelligentsia of working class origin’, which can also be signified by lack of a Porsche, I have found).

National flags are excellent for Olympics and in association with killing foreigners, that makes perfect sense, it is the domestic use of national flags that puzzles me.  One’s neighbours may fly flags from their homes to prove their patriotism.  I would prefer it if they paid their taxes and reported all suspicious behaviour to the authorities.  I see politicians adorned with them, sports persons draped in them, young men with them tattooed on their necks.  My favourite is seeing children ignoring them.  It is disrespectful to burn a flag and I do not approve of that, but there are many other things of which I disapprove more.  However, these are my personal opinions and have nothing to do with my expert taste testing laboratories.

Flags taste only of other things.  They can taste of virtue, hope, respect, eagerness and pride.  Sometimes they have crunchy centres that taste of avarice, cowardice and hypocrisy.  In too many of the flags we tasted, all other tastes were overwhelmed by blood.  However, we have determined beyond doubt that a flag can certainly taste like chicken.

(The Joe Chip portal has been updated and can be observed by clicking here.  Please have a look, there is a nice picture of a falcon on a power pole.)

*perhaps you refer to them as pickups or bakkes – the little trucks favoured by persons of trade, and also by other persons who have no need for such a truck.

Wombats are big furry buggers that look like a giant crawling teddy bear and the unsuspecting say “oh cute, so cute” until they turn and outrun your wife and trip her over and you keep running you coward because you have soiled yourself you are so scared, they just keep running and you hear your wife scream because its stopped now, only a fallen victim will stop it, and you hear it, you hear her flesh being torn, it makes a ripping sound, and you cannot ever forgive yourself but you also hate her a little bit forever, because she cannot forgive you, and it is no consolation that the wombat does not eat the flesh, it tears and nuzzles for a moment then returns to its business, it does not eat her because it is a herbivore, but it rips her because it is a nasty big furry bugger, and it could answer the question if it could speak, it could tell you if your wife tastes like chicken, because it has tasted both even though it does not swallow, but even if it spoke, you would be too chicken shit to ask, you gutless wonder.  The relief you felt when she fell.

Not to be confused with the cryptid womb-bats.