Decency Isn't Genetic

Brian and I don't really talk much about family on here. Sure there's the occasional dig at the filthy, manipulative cunt-basket that my wife clawed herself out of in infancy. And every once in a while I'll write an unintelligible screed about the poor fucks who don't understand about genitals. But actual discussion of family is pretty limited. Now, this is partially because, with the noted exception of my father, we've all pretty much cut ties with our families. I'm not going to talk about the reasons for that, less because it isn't any of your fucking business what kind of shitty people spawned us and more because it would be an almost tragically short post. Instead, I going to talk about the other reason we don't talk about it much. Those people aren't really family.

I'm not talking about some kind of cultish, "We're your family now; here's your 'punch'", kinda thing. I do legitimately value the concept of family, a group of people upon whom you are supposed to be able to intrinsically rely, I just feel like that structure is entirely too important to be left to the capriciousness of fate. In my experience the people who share your blood are more likely to be the people to fuck you over hardest, both because they have the access and because you're less likely to be truly prepared for it. The worst bit is that most of the time the "family" that ruins you doesn't even understand the damage they've done. Because being betrayed or used by blood isn't just your casual exploitation, its your framework for society. If you can't trust your relatives then what chance does some fucking stranger have? No, fuck that. We all need a support network and sharing a sexually viable ancestor at whatever point in history is presently convenient is an insufficient metric by which to organize.

Beyond that is the question of affection. If I'm going to trust someone enough to turn to them in my time of strife I'd really rather actually like that person. I make it a policy not to go out of my way to deal with people I don't enjoy in general, and that goes double for people I'm related to. Life is too short and too unpredictable to devote time and effort to maintaining relationships with people you don't like.

I recently had a transaction with a man I've met fewer times than I have fingers who was my mother's brother. I'm ambivalent about him, but I dislike his SO in a fashion so natural and effortless that it would literally take me more effort to not give a fuck. He was gobstruck that not only is this an acceptable standpoint to me (me! this man he'd met a few times years ago, the scandal of it), but that I didn't feel as though it should have a meaningful effect on either of our lives. We hadn't spoken to each other in years and had never shared an experience more significant than eating in the same building, if it wasn't for the fact that the alcoholic racist that raised him also raised one of the people who raised me I wouldn't even be expected to remember his name. Much less give a fuck about his wife.

We've chosen, instead of all that bullshit, to be adults and make the hard choices. To decide who to care about and to make the effort to nourish those relationships to the point where those people aren't just worthy of the trust we're putting in them, they extend the same trust in return. There might not be as many of us, but we love each other. Not because of what some relative strangers did to each other before we existed, but because we found people who we wanted to share that with.

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.