Born in the Wrong Era

I’ve known a lot of people that say they were born in the wrong time. I had a girlfriend who felt she should have been born in the 40s, but mostly I think because she wanted to only wear pants like Katherine Hepburn. I have a magician friend who wishes that he was born in the 1800s when conjuring was a young, elegant, theatrical art. Me, I think I should have been a caveman.

First of all I don’t much care about stuff. I think a rock to sit on, a fire to keep warm and maybe a small cave for “me” time would suit me just fine. I like the idea of not being attached to anything and there’s plenty of rocks, small caves and although I’m sure fires were much harder to start back then, manageable. So I could move at a moment’s notice. And I’m sure that happened. A lot.

I’d like to be in a culture where what I owned wouldn’t be the barometer of my worth. I’d really like to put the whole ‘sense of humor is the most important quality in a man’, for women, to the test. Of course the bigger dudes would still probably win out, but amongst us shorter specimens I’d like to find out if the producer who has no talent but controls the money could get anywhere if he was just trying to dangle a piece of bone in front of a girl’s eyes instead of some shiny bauble. Versus my making her laugh after a long day of hunting and gathering.

I also like the idea of there being a lot of free time and without not much really going on, we could really focus on “why we’re here?”

What were those early conversations like?

Caveman One: So this is pretty great, huh, being alive?

Caveman Two: If you call constantly being chased by predators, in competition for available food and the constant itching from these furs great, I guess.

Caveman One: Hmm. I need to ponder that. I’ll be in my cave.

Of course, I feel it goes without saying that it would be great to never have to shave, never have to worry about obesity due to running from stuff and no junk food, as well as not having to worry about anything “clashing.”

Although I really only have jeans and t’s, a small studio apartment where only my laptop really matters, and the only thing I really end up clipping a lot is the hair in my ears and nose. So I guess I’m fine right here.

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The Curse of the Omnivore

For about the last 25 years I have been primarily vegetarian.  There are exceptions: like I said in the blog the other day my mom’s Italian meatballs  rock (just have to qualify Italian because I didn’t like Swedish meatballs even as a kid.) I have sushi maybe five times a year and I’ve recently been introduced to Wahoo’s fish tacos and they are delicious. But seriously, it adds up to about a dozen times a year that I have anything labeled “flesh.” (Girls, that doesn’t mean everything)

But here’s the thing: I don’t care. I am not into it because of animal rights, I have owned leather shoes and I really, really don’t care what you eat. I wish the opposite was true.

I do my best not to proclaim my vegetarianism because then it becomes a label. I can go along with anyone to any restaurant and merely discreetly order a salad and no one has to be the wiser. Because when it comes out that I am a vegetarian I am often faced with The Wrath of the Omnivore!

I don’t exactly know when it became fashionable to label oneself an Omnivore. Obviously that word has been around for a long time, but there seems to be a movement. I don’t know if the bacon guys started it, because there seems to be more bacon around on top of burgers than ever before. I don’t know if it’s the chicken guys; maybe they teamed up with the bacon guys because chickens are more wiry. Or maybe it’s the beer guys, because I know when I used to drink even I wanted to eat White Castle. Or maybe people just want to eat meat and they can sniff out those of us that don’t and they’re on the attack. Whatever it is, I’m suddenly faced with people telling me that I’m wrong and that we’re naturally omnivores. So that got me thinking about whether that was true. And if so, how far would it go back. Picture two early homo-whatever they were when they were cavemen.

“Ungh” (translate: Want some fruit?)

“Garngh Ungh” (No I want to eat the animal to show I’m more powerful)

“Ungh La Loo” (Really, cause this fruit is way prettier, makes me want to eat it more than that hairy beast)

“Garngh Gahungh Rahungh” (Yes, but I need to eat him before he eats me)

Points (Too late)

“HUH?”

Again, I’m not hear to preach my side, so please don’t preach yours. I just know that when I eat a vegetarian diet I feel better. Please realize I will never give up pizza and go vegan. So if you feel better having a  double bacon cheese burger and that gives you energy like my diet does then help yourself. I don’t know CPR.