Fancy The Third

Short but sweet today. I have arrived at my judgement on Michael Jackson. The man is guilty. I have never seen such a farcically poor bit of acting, the contrived costume, the theatrical expression of pain — more reminiscent of Jonathan Harris', Dr Zachary Smith: oh, the pain, the pain ... than anything else I have seen in many a decade — the histrionic 90mph limo dash (pwease massa doan confooz me wid dat udder naughty bwack man!). The sooner they lock the up the sick creep the better, because he is making a mockery of the law ... at least OJ Simpson had the guts to face his accusers.

Fancy The Second

It would be lazy of me, wouldn't it, if I were simply to post a weblink with an exclamation mark?

Black boys separate classes plan!

It couldn't be made up and there is little I can add. Life and nature and the whole universe is soaked and steeped with irony more dense than neutronium. In what sense of the term incompatible do the architects of liberal society find so hard to understand. Equality isn't a commodity that be manufactured by legislation; I doubt, frankly that it can be achieved, directly, by education either. Even that greatest of the bêtes noir of the hackney-weary: "human nature" can only be seen cynically as ultimately resistent to dreary uniformity. I say that the wishy-washy twentieth century illiberal experimentation on societies in the name of liberalism had, continues to have and always will have, fuck all to do with anything. So long as we are different enough from another we will continue to tend to fall out and that the scale of the conflicts will range from civilly warm debate thru face slapping to dropping black holes into some poor bastard's sun.

Fancy The First

I've been wondering how much money a person needs? Like people who have made millions out selling turkeys over decades suddenly going for the big buck by creating a whole range of products that are essentially made from everything but the beaks, claws and feathers.

I'm no veggie freak. I like my meat and I don't mind it raw. I certainly have no qualms about doing my own butchery. But I am not extravagant. Unlike many of my friends and neighbours I extract every last meal out of an animal; however I draw the line at buying food that has been made in a factory like soap powder or shoe polish.

Ever wondered how a chicken nugget gets made? Well here's how they are made for the best companies in Europe and North America.

1. First you build a big factory.


2. To the factory is delivered "prime" skinless boneless chicken breast fillets. These come in one ton cubes direct from a slaughter house that might be a hundred miles away. They are chilled and have not been frozen
   
   Note that the wings and drumsticks are sold separately by the slaughter house the catering and supermarket chains. Most of the thigh meat ends up in chicken pies.


3. The factory also takes delivery of more one ton cubes that are filled with an unpleasant looking slurry. This is the skin and fat and the gunk that has been hosed off the bones to get every last scrap of meat. It is also supplied chilled, has not been frozen ... it smells bad enough to make even a strong stomach retch.


4. The breast fillets are roughly chopped into one centimetre cubes and the skin fat slurry is liquidised into a vomit coloured soup. The soup is then mixed with a number of chemicals and lot of salt and to this is added the breast meat chunks. The whole mess is then moulded into bite sized pieces and slurry glues the bits of meat together.


5. A breadcrumb coating is applied and then the item moves through a pasteurisation chamber where every item is subjected to a salmonella killing 70°C for about 40 seconds. Random samples are checked every half an hour to make sure that the pasteurisation is reliable right thru to the centre of the meat. (Those major outlets don't relish being sued for giving their punters food poisoning!)

Still feel hungry? Does that Turkey Drummer still look as appealing?

Nah! I don't fancy it either!