Fuck You, Don't Pay Me

So here's a weird thing; I don't like getting paid. Not for my labor, not for goods, not at fucking all. Handling money in general bothers the fuck out of me. I've thought a great deal about why this is and how it happened that the absolute basis of our society came to repulse me. I'm not entirely sure how this state of affairs came about but I do have some reasons.

The main reason, I think, is that being paid to do a thing manipulates the nature of that thing. I'm no longer doing a thing because I want to or because I enjoy it, I'm doing it because I've been bought. At least rented. Now, this is probably some deep-seated fuckery from the circumstances of my rearing or whatever, but that doesn't make it less of a problem. Its to the point that if someone offers to pay me for say, my fucking delicious homemade molasses bacon, I not only don't want to give them any more, but I don't even want to make it anymore. Because clearly this person doesn't appreciate the act of love and attempt at comradery represented by my bacon, and if they don't then what's the fucking point. By offering to pay me it takes a fun, tasty offering of friendship and reduces it, and thus me and my friendship, to a commodity.

That's kind of the rub here, getting paid makes me feel cheap. I don't really value my own survival for its own sake. The things I do are done for earnest companionship, shared and personal joy and, fuck forbid, because I genuinely believe in what's being done. Getting monetarily remunerated just takes all of those great, ephemeral joys and tries to reduce them to a grubby, coke-stained stack of bills. Or worse, a digital means of survival that can only exist theoretically for me. It's saying that yeah, what I do is great and all, but you'd rather wave me away with money than allow a connection to form.

I fully recognize my unacceptable luck at having my needs accounted for, I don't deny for a second that this is a problem evoked only from a position of plenty. Unfortunately, my marketable skills consist of small batch baconry and the ability to swear on the internet, so my prospects are slim on my own. And considering my little neurosis gets worse the more abject my poverty and completely predates my current relative comfort I have, I would be fucked without my goddamn amazing wifemonster. At the same time, I think it says something absolutely disgusting about our culture when the knee jerk response to an attempt at brotherhood or an exercise in delight that results in a physical object, is "Here's some money so you'll keep doing that for me."

A couple things that made the last week slightly better than normal.

So I want to talk about two things today, The finale of The Legend of Korra and Miracle Berries. I don't have a lot to say on either front, but together they could make a full post, so lets do this.

If you have not seen Korra, Spoilers be ahead. Also, watch it, its great.

Korra ended this last week and the finale was great. It had everything. Giant robot fights, badass bending fights, giant badger-mole musicals and two great couples finally getting together for reals. Varrick and Zhu Li do the thing, and Korra and Asami get together at the very end. Good stuff. People still got up in arms about it, but that's OK, because they are wrong, and we don't have to listen to them. Its nice to see a romance that was sort of there be confirmed to be 100% true. I say sort of, because it was obvious by the fourth season that Korrasami was a thing but I didn't know if Nickelodeon would have the guts to green-light something that would have made an unfortunately large amount of people upset. But hey, they did, so good on them. It was a beautiful scene that showed genuine love between two people, and I am sure that we can all agree that this is good thing, and if not, fuck you trollpants.

The Second thing I wanted to talk about was Miracle Berries. Eshi got some in the mail from the Cards Against Humanity people's annual Holiday gift package. For the past couple of years you can have given them like $10 and they send you a bunch of random stuff and holiday themed cards. This year one of the gifts was a package of pills made from the Miracle Berry. So you take the pill, and mull it around in your mouth for a few minutes, coating your tounge, and when it is dissolved you eat limes or some other similarly sour/bitter food. We ended up trying some stuff we had around the house like limes, lemons, dark chocolate, orange juice and coffee. Its fucking awesome. These aptly named berries made limes and lemons taste like candy. Seriously, candy. I legitimately thought that lemons are too sweet. Of the stuff we tried, Limes were the best. Its amazing, I would suggest that people try them out at least once just for the experience.

Seasonal Disa-fuckthis Disorder

I loathe people this time of year. Its not entirely a christmas thing or a holiday thing, or even a rabid consumerism thing, though my issue is related. I hate people in the winter because american culture apparently demands that, what is for me, the most beautiful, comfortable, and peaceful time of year has to be fucking terrible.

Between the narcissistic, masturbatory rage of the evangelicals bitching about how their monopoly on a season is slipping, to the tragic slide of joyous celebrations into vile obligations as progressively more distant and abusive families bludgeon each other with politics and forced proximity, society fails this season completely.

Additionally, this season means enough cooking to rival the feast of Tantalus, and though I love to cook, it means that I have neither the patience nor the inclination to write more on this subject than this. So I'll just say that if its cold outside and you're an asshole, fuck you. Viciously. With the pointiest, most horrific, seasonally appropriate prop you can find.

YKWFA: The Least Violent Way to a Man's Heart.

Not long enough ago and not far enough away my wife and I lived with her mother. Now I love my wife spectacularly. Seriously, its crazy. But she and I agree that her mother is a vile, shit-souled, solipsistic, thunder-cunt. I know, I know, this is supposed to be about something fucking awesome, not the subhuman bilge waste that spawned my lovely wife; but it follows, I promise. When she wasn't manipulating my wife or insulting me she was a terrible food snob, not in that she was overly fussy about what she ate (though she did insist that her cats ate organic gourmet lobster cat food), but in that she was bad at being a food snob. So bad in fact that it inspired me.

I once heard this woman utter the phrase "Oh, I don't really care, food is really just fuel." on the 45 minute drive to the organic farmer she bought milk and eggs from. That stopped me pretty much dead. Her hypocrisy boggled my mind, but more than that I was inspired by how wrong she was. I'm a tubby fucker, so I've always had a complex relationship to food (that link rambles a bit and is a bit nsfw but I love Ed Byrne and he makes my point well... eventually). She pushed me over the edge. After that point I loved food, no question, no hesitation. Food is fucking awesome. See, I told you we'd get there.

First, let me say, "food is fuel" is an accurate statement; "food is just fuel" is super fucking not. Food is a massively complex amalgamation of social/cultural/ethnic/religious standards and compromises layered over geological/climatic/biological limitations wrapped in what is both one of the most complex, and the most accessible, sciences and sprinkled liberally with the ecstatic neuro-biological phenomenon of flavor.

Anthropologically, food is almost frighteningly important. The production of food stuffs, the security of food resources, the social systems that arise surrounding going from seed to stomach are all fascinating, interdependent structures that are incredibly enlightening. Not to mention the wondrous cultural gestalt that happens when people from different food-cultures share food with each other. Food can tell us about people, describe ancient environments and technologies, and lubricate peace between cultures. It also has an anthropological "dark side". If you don't believe me go to Philadelphia and mention cheesesteak, hell just saying the word "baklava" in certain company can start fights.

Beyond anthropology there are advanced and novel chemical processes involved in cooking at every juncture. The process of turning light and dirt into energy and passing that energy up the food chain, the way different additions and catalysts (some in terribly minute quantities) can change the flavor, content and structure of a dish, down to the way the body processes different nutrients in different preparations.  Have no desire to hunt links for every other word in this post, though I could, so here's a starter link, study up. Also, food is mighty tasty.

I could go on about this for days, the science and culture of food is one of the most beautiful, nuanced aspects of day to day life. Whether or not people think about it, what and how we eat plays a massive role in our lives top to bottom. If you take anything away from this post, let it be this; my mother-in-law is a cunt, and food is fucking amazing.