Living, Really?

Event Eating

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In the 21st century, I shouldn’t have to deal with bones in my food.

Nowhere is this more unacceptable than at a restaurant. Let me get this straight: I’m paying for food, you cooked it for me, our civilization has been around for millenia, and you can’t be bothered to remove the bones?

If you’re destitute, homeless, a Skeksis, or worse, a Cantonese peasant farmer, then maybe it’s OK. Enjoy the scraps from the leftovers of the lower middle class with my blessing.

But chicken wings are delicious, you say. Oh? How do you feel about chicken feet? Now explain to me how those two things are different. I’m sure if you cover them with enough orange sauce and ranch dressing you can pretend you’re not just eating the garbage of someone more privileged than you.

Also, I think if you want to chew on a carcass at supper time you should be required to wear the bones as jewelry. Otherwise you’re just being wasteful.

You know who else loves bones? Dogs. When you’re done chewing on your turkey leg, maybe you can bury it in the backyard when I take you out to make poop.

Cannibals are also bone connoisseurs. If you have no reference for these guys, go see The Road for a true meat-on-bone experience.

Until some “Event” occurs where all you can do is truly live off the fat of the land, as it runs away from you in a post-holocaust nuclear winter, consider raising your living standards above the poverty line and order something from the deboned menu.