Saturday, August 25, 2007

I'm almost done reading The Gospel of Food, a book all about how liberal food politics are mostly based on fallacy and anti-science.

I think about the possibility that maybe everything is JUST OK and something shifts on a primal level and releases all kinds of confidence and endorphins. That maybe McDonald's provides edible meals and a welcoming atmosphere to poor families that would have to live on crackers otherwise. That maybe I can swear off the horrible "reduced" whatever food I was raised on, every bite laden with the unspoken fear of diabetes and cholesterol implosion heat death.

That maybe ballasting your soul with doctrines limits its potentials for fulfillment. That maybe limiting your potentials for fulfillment cripples your soul.

That maybe we're not all going to go screaming into an icecap apocalypse, that doomsday has been lurking at the edges of our dreams since we were squirted into the universe for a purpose whose continued obscurity honestly renders all judgment, comparison and prediction inherently faulted, that somebody's going to look back and regard the idea that bicycles and veggie burgers will save the world in the same way we shake our heads at how it was once believed that masturbation causes blindness.

That maybe we can drink in huge, blustering breaths of liberated air, embrace our ignorance, assume nothing and go tromping off into the future with excitement (how alien this concept, once so central to the human mind). That maybe the only gospel of worth is: go with it, dudes.