As I’ve had more than one person forward me a “Prop 8 Overturned!” link from the LA Times:
Folks, the story I’m getting sent to me is from May 16, 2008. Which is, you know, a year ago. I’m seeing no current news about the case regarding Prop 8 that’s now at the California Supreme Court. And while I would be personally delighted to see Prop 8 overturned, as far as I know it hasn’t been.
What we’ve learned today: Check dates on news stories before forwarding them on. Thanks.
Me: Comments seem to suggest that there’s a general concern that a couple of hours after ingestion, you will reappear as a squirty, oleaginous mess, which will make me quite unhappy.
SoB: See, now, that’s just pure discrimination, is what that is. Your readers are total dairyists.
SoB: You heard me. They’re probably all vegans or something.
Me: I don’t think that’s what it is.
SoB: Sure it is. Stomping around in their hemp sandals from Guatemala, paranoid that someone somewhere might enjoy something creamy.
Me: I think it’s more that they’re concerned that swallowing a quarter pound of uncut fat might have digestive repercussions.
SoB: Well, of course it would. The repercussion is that your intestines would spasm with joy.
Me: I’m not sure I want that.
SoB: You have something against joy?
Me: It’s more that whole “spasm” part.
SoB: This is what’s wrong with America, you know.
Me: A reluctance to experience digestive discomfort?
SoB: No! A lack of adventurous spirit. When the pioneers were making their way across the plains in their Conestogas, they didn’t say “oh, no, we can’t trek across this here continent, we might get a cramp.” They just went!
Me: I’m not sure you can really make a valid comparison between eating a stick of butter and, you know. Manifest Destiny.
SoB: I’m not saying it’s a one-to-one comparison. I’m saying they’re two points on the same spectrum.
Me: Well, a lot of people said it would be okay to eat you. Just in conjunction with something else.
SoB: Like what?
Me: Oh, you know. Bread. Pasta. As part of a pie. The usual.
SoB: That’s fine if you’re yellow.
Me: You’re yellow.
SoB: Not inside.
Me: No, you’re pretty much yellow all the way through.
SoB: Yes, all right, fine. Literally, I am yellow all the way through. Metaphorically, however, I am the opposite of yellow.
Me: You’re metaphorically blue?
SoB: Stop that.
SoB: You know what? After talking to you, I don’t think I want you to eat me all in one go. I question your willingness. I question your ability. I question your nerve. I question your worthiness. It takes a special sort of person to eat an entire stick of butter as it should be consumed, on its own, as a singular digestive experience. I see now that you’re not that person.
Me: I don’t suppose I am.
SoB: I don’t see you as the Oregon Trail type, either.
Me: Probably not. I imagine I would have died of dysentery.