Take It In The Face!

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As you may have figured out by now, much of my history is steeped in exasperated self loathing. Good old Irish Catholic.  I know right from wrong but I still do bad things and just hate myself later for it.  I’m like the guy working at a fast food joint who decides to blow a load in your food. Ok, maybe I’m nothing like that at all but I, at least, wanted to remind you that there’s a man somewhere out there just waiting to unknowingly feed you his “special sauce”. So be aware of that. Actually, it’s probably better to remain unaware. Awareness, in this situation, is downright terrifying. “My God, that looks like a mighty fine cheeseburger but I better not eat it in case Herman decided to make some love near it.” Wouldn’t we be better off not knowing?  I, for one, will not be inspecting every taco I order for signs of excessive protein. However, this also means that I’m at risk.  I’m taking my life into my own hands and possibly taking someone’s future life into my mouth just for the love of greasy and fattening mystery meats.  Do you see where I’m going here? I should inspect my food every time with the knowledge that I possess but I don’t want to take the time.  And what if I actually find some of Elmer’s glue smeared across my sandwhich?  I wouldn’t possibly be able to eat it, at which point, my idea of fast food will be ruined forever (not that the idea was too enticing in the first place).  Either way, this is where I get back to the self loathing.  I hate myself for not checking my food and I hate myself for being so afraid to destroy my mind’s view of minute foods.

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