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    Saturday, January 18, 2003

    The jungle in the afternoon. It's hot and humid. Short trees all around which shields the earth from the sun that not much other greenery survives on the ground. Suddenly there is a loud thud. They turn around and see this thorny green round hard melon-sized thing on the ground. Oga and Thor circle the botanical carcass. What is it? Is it an animal? A fruit? A seed? Something a dinosaur ate and decided to let it out of its digestive system through its prehistoric dino-ass?

    They attempt to pick it up but the sharp thorns deter them. Not to be intimidated by the menacing object, they strategise. After all, they wouldn't have discovered the flame-broiled burger if they had given up on fire so easily at their first encounter. So, employing the twelve-step problem-solving techniques of their forefathers, they club the thing! Twelve times! Eventually, the object splits open, and with that, the smell of a hundred butt cracks after a workout.

    Nature's design of this "fruit" begs that we do not apply our sensory of touch and smell to it. I am quite nature did not intend for us to eat it.

    What I'd like to know is at what point did we decide that something that looked and smelled they way it does, made us want to put the thing in our mouth to taste what it's like.

    To put it in perspective, imagine seeing a piece of feces on the ground. It looks bad. It smells funky. Then you go, "Fuckit! I am going to put it in my mouth and eat it anyway."

    After that, you round up your friends and get them to try it. And if that isn't enough, you start grading the crap and have ice cream flavoured after it.

    I don't get it. Since when did people acquire the taste of bodily waste discharged through the anus?

    Clay and I hate durians.

    Now, let's talk about cockles.

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