Monday, February 02, 2015
The god of sweet sandwiches
February already? I must have missed a day with this stinking, sweat bursting cold. There probably isn't any god so if that's the case then rather than waste a whole word by applying it to something non existent and discredited then why not apply it to sandwiches thus creating a new defining measure for god and godlike things - the humble sandwich. Savoury is tricky so I'm not going there at present, too many tastes, shapes and variations and I suspect that the topmost of sandwich gods may well dwell in those cloudy, mustard smeared courts above the ether. No, we'll leave it and I'll drone for a few more lines about sweet sandwiches; smaller, more graceful, easier to digest and most importantly crammed with sugar. The true god of sweet sandwiches being: white bread, butter, a decent portion of strawberry jam and (placed squarely in the middle) a round and unbroken, pristine digestive biscuit (from a reputable supplier). There, done, dusted and crunched.
Still on the subject of god, I quite liked Stephen Fry's recent rant about the nature of god. He put it all rather well (even though he can be creepy). The last paragraph being particularly to my liking (just don't get me started on Churchill's wild historically sanitised and surgically removed summing up of Islam). I'm not sure that religious people can ever appreciate eccentric sandwich combinations either.
“It’s perfectly apparent that he (God) is monstrous. Utterly monstrous and deserves no respect whatsoever. The moment you banish him, life becomes simpler, purer, cleaner, more worth living in my opinion.”
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