A Bowl of Ice Cream!
As you know, traditionally, on Fridays, I like to leave you with a little something to think about over the weekend – a thought or question to reflect on, that perhaps you’ll maybe come away with a little better understanding of our place in the world.
To that end I offer you an old Borden’s ad I found in a magazine. You know how I like old magazines, and any time I can pull a wad of them out of the trash heap that is Nana Parsnips’ house, I do so. It’s that much less crap I’ll have to throw away when she finally passes. (God forbid.)
As you can see, we’ve got a pretty, almost picture-postcard image of good ol’ Elsie the Cow.
She’s enjoying a bowl of delicious ice cream. And here’s where things get weird.
Ice cream, it turns out, is made from milk.
Cows give milk.
It’s therefore quite possible, née, probable that the very bowl of ice cream Elsie is enjoying was made from milk she produced herself.
How different is that than you or I sitting on the beach, clipping our toenails, tossing them in a bag of cheap trail mix and then presuming as we snack on a handful that the clippings are shards of particularly tough almonds or thick, sharp slivers of dessicated coconut?
Now – same question, but picture the above scenario at a stretch of shoreline adjacent to a clothing-optional beach, and there’s really no line of demarcation telling me I had wandered into in an area where I needed to put my Umbros back on. I think a $135 ticket is a little outrageous.