Wednesday, August 12, 2020

PITY THE POTATO

Andouille. Mustard cabbage. Tamarind liquid. Green curry paste. Sriracha. Satori. Oh yes, there was also tomato and onion there, and I glopped it over Kwan Miao noodles. Meanwhile, my apartment mate demolished a bag of cheddar potato chips. She does not like spicy food much, she loves cheese, and she's on her period.

Which I mention strictly for mise en scène. It isn't relevant, except for the potato chips. Which I had bought at walgreens when restocking on foot powder. As a little greasy token of empathy.


If the space aliens taste like cheese OR fried chicken, they had better pray that they do not encounter any women experiencing the menses after landing. They'll never meet our leader.

It is, therefore, in the interests of galactic understanding and friendship that the male of the species should take pains to provide cheese, chicken, or bacon flavoured snacks to the female of the species.
Possibly also shrimp and lobster.



I am only familiar with one female of our species, but I'm assuming that she is not unusual in this regard. This isn't a scientific approach.



Maybe it's different case by case. I should print out a survey and distribute it in postage paid envelopes. Leave a stack at the clinic. Mass mailing. Inserts in magazines at the news rack. I could incentivize respondents by promising cheese or sourcream potato chips.

What do you think?
Worth doing?




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2 comments:

Frau Doktor W said...

There was a time when I could be placated with ice cream, chocolates, and baked goods.

The back of the hill said...

For many people (both genders), those things go a long way toward making life better.

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