I eat too much for my sedentary lifestyle. Thinking about my inability to eat moderately, I remembered a scene from the novel, Dune. The young hero was given a test that would supposedly determine whether he deserved to be called a human. A nasty woman held a poisoned needle to his neck. His hand was placed in a box that caused horrific, excruciating pain. If he pulled his hand out of the box, she’d kill him with the “gom jabbar” death needle. If he could force himself to endure the agony, he’d pass as human.
Obviously they knew nothing of DNA–a simple lab test could have settled the matter, but where’s the drama in that? Yeah, okay, it was probably metaphorical human-ness she was testing for, not biological.
In any case, these days when I’m eyeing the ice cream (Dreyers Cookies and Cream, or Ben & Jerry’s Vanilla Heath Bar Crunch) I imagine that poison needle at my neck, and ask myself, “Am I human or animal?” The uncontrolled animal sticks its hand in the freezer, the human can master its instincts.
I’ll let you know how well this works. (Grunt, woof, graaar!) Meanwhile, I was at my health club today, and the guy at the locker next to me was telling his friend that if you drink a lot of liquor, you’ll lose weight the next day due to dehydration. “Is that the puke diet?” I asked him. Sheesh. I’ll rather eat a sand worm sandwich.
Filed under: personal and none of your business
