Thursday, October 21, 2004

Packed it in

As promised, a light post to follow up the last one which was full of deep philosophical meanings and a couple of really in-depth charts.

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A few years ago, I opened a box of goods that had been mailed to us and exclaimed in delight. Reaching into the box, I pulled out a handful of packaging material and took a tentative bite...

You see, that packaging material looked just like chrupki - my favorite snack when living in Poland. Chrupki are simply an extruded, baked pulp of corn and water. They don't really sound appetizing, I know, and to people who absolutely demand flavour from their food - they aren't. It's the texture that I found utterly addictive.

Once I ascertained that it was (probably) the same stuff, I dove into that box and sat there contentedly munching packing pellets for several minutes before I noticed the way M was looking at me.

For the first time ever I had received a look that unequivocally said "Oh. My. God. You are stark, raving bonkers."

I hadn't bothered explaining what I was doing to the poor man and as far as he was concerned, his wife was sitting at a table calmly eating toxic packaging material right from the box.

I explained it to him and the look was only slightly downgraded to "I know you do these kinds of crazy things, and I know you have your reasons, but man can you be weird sometimes." This was fine - it's a look I was used to.

Anyhow, this time around in Poland, I sought out and bought a great, big bag of the things. M had one and exclaimed that it was like eating tissue paper. "Precisely" I said, "Crunchy, though, aren't they?". I got that slightly downgraded look.

After a couple of days of feasting on cardboard-flavoured pellets, I actually took a good look at the packet and almost shot the one I had in my mouth across the room. There, on the back, above the ingredients, was a picture of two children. Below it was written "My children eat this too." It was signed by the guy who owned the company who produced the things.





I understand the intent. He wanted to say "I'm a loving father who wants the best for his kids. I think these things are safe/nutritious/good enough for my children. You can feed these to your kids too, knowing that they won't grow tentacles by age 7 from eating my product."

As you can see, the whole thing hinges on him loving these children, wanting the best for them, treating them well. Which doesn't hang at all with the haircut of the eldest, does it? To me, that kind of coif just screams abuse of one sort or another.

How do you get that kind of hair on a kid? Do you show a hairdresser this:



...and tell him to wing it?

Hair like this doesn't just happen, it requires hairspray, maintenance and planning.

Just an observation, albeit a personal one. I'm now checking for tentacles on a weekly basis.

M

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