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Tuna during the Holidays -- not about debate
It's that time of year. Yesterday we went out and murdered and kidnapped a
living thing, and I told it, while I was cutting it slowly in half, that we
were going to keep it semi-alive for weeks, and we were going to hang
glittery balls and strings with lights on it, to celebrate a religious
holiday that neither of us really belives in. Its participation in this
event, of course, was pre-ordained, because it wouldn't have come into
existence if it hadn't been to play the aforementioned sacrificial role.
We sang cheerful holiday songs, just to irritate it, I suspect. I told
it "hey. I have to lurch around in weird fake "skins", and adopt social
conventions such as getting a hair cut. The very least you can do is die
very slowly, covered in silly glass things, and have everyone say how
pretty you are, and how nice you smell."
It seems grumpy. I think it's in its denial stage. I grok its pain.
Archive created by Jonathan Stanton (jonathan@cs.jhu.edu)
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