You Blog What You Eat

No wonder we've never been named a "Blog of Note" (which for some reason has been "The House of Marrakesh" for the last several weeks)! We've foolishly strived to entertain the masses with clever comedic posts, thoughtful news commentary, and the occasional diatribe against our neighbors to the north. Turns out that what people are really clamoring for is. . . pictures of food.

Yes, the hottest craze in self-publishing is to maintain a comprehensive log of everything that one puts in one's mouth. (Well, maybe not everything, but you get the idea. . . .) Aspiring bloggers can gain a following simply by snapping a picture of every piece of food that makes its way into their alimentary canal--every meal, every snack, every piece of cracker found between the couch cushions, every piece of potato chip trapped in one's chest hair (well, not us, you understand, we're just sayin').

Rationalizations abound! It's about dieting! It's about health! It's about becoming a more thoughtful connoisseur of the finer things in life and the proper way to eat!

People, it's about obsessive-compulsive disorder. Admitting you have a problem is the first step. (Yeah, yeah, you could quit any time you wanted. . . .)

It's not even that original. Sure, the first person to have the idea was maybe onto something, but how many of these food diaries do we really need? Not any more than we currently have, certainly, so rest assured that the Solipsist will not be photographing his racist Wheaties breakfasts.

It occurs to us, though, that if people are fascinated by food, by seeing every meal that random strangers eat, then how much more fascinated would they be in seeing the end products of all these meals. So, folks, here we bring you the first photographic installment of a regular (you should excuse the expression) feature, "Soli-Poop"!

OK, so, this morning we had eggs and French toast, and the results, as you can see, were kind of--

ALL RIGHT, THAT'S IT! GIVE ME THE COMPUTER!

Hi folks. WOS here. You didn't really want the Solipsist to go on, did you?

He's been in rare form today. This is what happens when he's off from work--way too much time on his hands.

I'm in the process of looking for a job, and I'm looking into sales positions, something I've done before. Solipsist, "encouraging" me, tells me, "You're a great salesperson. You could sell space heaters to Eskimos."

ME: You mean, I could sell ice-makers to Eskimos.

Sol: Why would Eskimos need ice-makers?

ME: Now you're just being stupid.

Sol: No, seriously, that's mean. Why would you swindle poor little Eskimo families out of their hard-earned blubber earnings by making them spend money on ice makers?!? Don't you realize that they could just, I don't know, chip a little bit off the kids' bedroom door if they need ice? And why would they need ice anyway? I imagine their sodas stay perfectly cold just from the ambient temperature. . .

At this point, I threw an ashtray at the Solipsist. He got the message. But this whole "Soli-Poop" thing? No no no. We will be holding on to the computer for the rest of the evening. Check back tomorrow for, I hope, more appropriate ramblings.