Sunday, February 10, 2013
Perhaps I've been thinking about this "fork" thing from the completely wrong perspective. It's not easy to admit a mistake, but fuck knows I've made more than a few in this life and dog willing, I will make a few more. As such, it occasionally becomes necessary to offer a mea culpa and correct one's previously-held beliefs. It's what separates decent people from Republicans- reason over blind ideology. But I digress... See, my interpretation of this whole "fork" thing has been either a literal interpretation of a fork as an eating instrument or as a single path that splits. Last night I had my revelation. Maybe it was inspired by seeing the band The Residents, a totally trippy experience, and the flashing lights triggers a seizure of sorts that rewired part of the brain. It certainly wasn't booze or drugs- $8 for a beer? No thanks. And I was completely clean- no weed, acid, heroin, crystal meth, crack, not even caffeine. Just high on life and Art. Perhaps the fork is inverted. Rather than a single path that diverges, they are paths that converge. Like hogs being shunted to the slaughter, we're all getting funneled into... what? Well, one answer is death. We're all going to die. And there are those religious sorts who think this death is just a path to heaven or hell or some sort of warehouse where our souls are then recycled- fresh new packaging to be squeezed out by momma (or taken out by c-section) and it's this life thing all over again. Or maybe.... it's not about paths at all and I'm overthinking this thing. Maybe it is "forks" as eating instruments. Even there, trouble lurks. Two camps. Form versus function. Some people don't give a fuck about form. For them, a cheap plastic fork from the top of the package- you know the one, the fork that has dirt on it because the cellophane was ripped and the box has been sitting on the shelf of the $.99 store for several years- works just fine. Hell, they won't even bother to wash the dirt off. Shovel food from pie plate to pie hole. Others find this repugnant. A fork isn't merely a sustenance transfer device. It's the difference between a 1981 Yugo and 2013 Mercedes. Both get you there but one is far more genteel and, more importantly, socially acceptable and proper. Imagine the horror if, at a State Dinner, the President used a pickle fork with which to eat his Kobe steak. The blogosphere would erupt in righteous indignation, further fueling the belief that he is not a "real" American, but a foreign pretender. This would be proof positive he is not One Of Us. Now I am spooked. Even though I live alone, I will be having a sandwich for dinner.