http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/17/business/worldbusiness/17warm.html?hp
A 6-year long drought in Australia, which many believe is a result of climate change and a sign of patterns to come, has led many farmers in the country to turn from growing rice to growing grapes for wine, as grapevines require much less water.
Hence, while we are collectively meeting our demise from starvation / violence due to food or fuel shortage / drowning as water levels rise / dying in some horrific weather event, at least we can be wasted in the process.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Mushy brains
Last week, while reading The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, I took comfort in the fact that Oliver Sacks attributed the visions of Hildegaard, a religious mystic from the 12th century, to migraine headaches. I took comfort as this was evidence that I am not the only migraine-induced freakshow.
Behold, a dream I had when I managed to fall asleep for 10 minutes during my last migraine:
I'm walking down a hallway, with windows to my left and a wall to my right, with a middle-aged woman, telling me that today is my lucky day as I am in for a real delicacy: we will be having brains for dinner. Human brains.
We enter a room. To the left, in a chair, is a man with a giant fly for a head. Except the giant fly isn't his head. It's, actually, eating his head. Well, no not so much eating. As my hostess explains, the fly isn't so much eating man's head; it's more like the fly is sucking on his head. Apparently, the juices the fly excretes as it sucks on the man's head makes the man's brain mushy, and the mushiness is what makes human brains so delicious.
Meanwhile, the fly has somehow detached itself from the man's head and the latter is walking, stumblingly, around the room, saying, "I'm not mushy enough yet. I don't think I'll taste good."
My hostess takes the man by the elbow, leading him back to the chair, insisting that, yes, he is plenty mushy enough, and he'll taste just delicious.
Unfortunately, I woke up before I was able to determine that myself.
Behold, a dream I had when I managed to fall asleep for 10 minutes during my last migraine:
I'm walking down a hallway, with windows to my left and a wall to my right, with a middle-aged woman, telling me that today is my lucky day as I am in for a real delicacy: we will be having brains for dinner. Human brains.
We enter a room. To the left, in a chair, is a man with a giant fly for a head. Except the giant fly isn't his head. It's, actually, eating his head. Well, no not so much eating. As my hostess explains, the fly isn't so much eating man's head; it's more like the fly is sucking on his head. Apparently, the juices the fly excretes as it sucks on the man's head makes the man's brain mushy, and the mushiness is what makes human brains so delicious.
Meanwhile, the fly has somehow detached itself from the man's head and the latter is walking, stumblingly, around the room, saying, "I'm not mushy enough yet. I don't think I'll taste good."
My hostess takes the man by the elbow, leading him back to the chair, insisting that, yes, he is plenty mushy enough, and he'll taste just delicious.
Unfortunately, I woke up before I was able to determine that myself.
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