Occupy Mealtimes

I grow tired of the oppression of the working classes by the greedy one percent. I was sitting down to dinner. My nephews, Gluten Badwulf and Spud Badwulf, were at the dinner as well. As a family, we are activists. I looked down at my plate of food, then I looked at the fork and knife in my hand. A rage against the machine rose from my heart ...

What am I? A slave? Humans were not designed by evolution to use knives and forks to eat food. I threw my cutlery onto the floor and seized the pork chop on my plate with my hands and tore off a satisfying chunk and ate it. I threw the bone on the floor, for the house dogs to fight over. I growled in happiness.

Gluten Badwulf, my nephew, observed this. Hurrah for the working class, he shouted. He too threw away his utensils of oppression, the knife and fork, and began to eat his food like a free man, with his hands. Food is a vehicle of oppression. It is served too hot to gorge upon ... and what is wrong with gorging? A correct mouthful is best obtained by tearing it off with the teeth from an upheld haunch or roast. Raw vegetables lend themselves to fork free eating. It is the cooked mushes and slurps that require the slavery of spoons and cutlery to eat. Away with this tyranny.

Throw food at the dogs. The tyrants want you to be separate from the animals, to be separate from Mother Earth. Never more! Feed the dog table scraps, throw them behind your chair! The evil one percent wish to teach you class differences: that your dog and you are different, that dog and man should not eat at the same time and place. Bah!

Real food is served warm, but cool enough to touch. Real food can be taken in the hand and pushed into the mouth. Soup is drunk from the bucket, and stew is scooped with bread or fingers. End the fascism of cutlery, stop teaching yourself class distinctions!

Occupy Mealtime. Do it now.