Issues Of Earth-Rumbling Import
Meanwhile, at Boston University, enormous thoughts are being had:
The she in question is Professor Megan Elias.
Oh, and she’s talking about food.
Obviously.
The question “what is queer food?” is, we’re told by Professor Elias, “a question that’s coming up a lot lately.” If only among academics desperate for an angle, an excuse for claiming a salary and wasting other people’s time. Academics much like Professor Elias.
Welcome to the bleeding edge of human mental activity.
Quite how one can edit “an illustrated guide to queer food,” complete with recipes, as Professor Ilias has, while simultaneously being unable to define what such a thing is, should it exist, is a question I leave to the reader.
Though a review of said book does offer a clue:
So “queer food,” it turns out, is not in fact a thing. It’s just whatever people who describe themselves as “queer” – a subset of insufferable misfits – happen to eat. While talking about themselves and how terribly “queer” they are.
Specifics of the professor’s course content are, as one might imagine, a little sketchy, beyond the obligatory claims of things being “disrupted” and “interrogated,” albeit in ways not altogether clear, or indeed convincing.
We are, however, informed that the credulous and self-absorbed will be invited to ponder what they might eat on a first date – because that’s totally worth those annual fees of $90,000 – and “how [their] food choice is representing [their] gender identity.” Which is a thing that food should do, apparently.
Oh, and the aforementioned,
On grounds that being, say, “polyamorous” – i.e., a neurotic slag – may, in ways unexplained, determine how much you like lasagne or carrots.
Such is the sophistication of our times.
Those so inclined – and with nothing better to do – are welcome to reflect on yesterday’s dinner, or this morning’s breakfast, and then explain to the rest of the class how those foodstuffs “represent” your “gender identity.”
I’ll award points for contrivance.
Readers may recall our adventures in “queered” history, which is like history, but less so. And, as above, much more self-involved.
This blog is kept afloat by the tip jar buttons below.
You heroically threw yourself on that homity pie, saving my low-carb diet from an ignoble end.
But how many stages are there? 🤔
Ah. Well. Um. I was rather hoping no-one would ask that. No idea, actually. I can only see the level above me, which I haven’t yet cleared. Though I have a suspicion it’s in three figures.
So we’ll gloss over that.
[ Hurriedly cuts to commercial break. ]
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Has this blog ever explored the problem of Quaker nutjobs?
Isherwood seems to have forgotten he asked to become a citizen.
Charles Murray, in a multi-day back-and-forth with Smart People who want to use government to “encourage” aging people to move out of their single family homes into apartments:
I can strongly confirm that. Coercing people to move out of their lifelong homes is the sort of dick move that is made only by sadists and the criminally autistic.
It’s not just the homes themselves but also the neighbors, neighborhood network of shops and services, the mental map of one’s “home grounds”, and so on.