Serious philosophical debate

You’re staggering home from the pub one night, slightly the worse for wear. You make a wrong turning and end up stumbling across a lonely common near a military airforce base.

A bright-light comes from the sky and centres on you. You’re pulled up into an spaceship, whisked away to a foreign planet, and caged in an alien farm that specialises in foreign meats.

It's a Cookbook! And most of the recipes seem to involve burger relish ...

You know the end is coming, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re in the cage with other abductees (including Amelia Earhart and Elvis). A pair of giant frogs approach your pen; one with a large carving knife, and the other with a book entitled “To Serve Man”.

Now, think carefully because this is important: would it matter to you whether you were intended to be main course in a high-class gourmet restaurant, or as a McHumanBurger in a fast food joint?

There’s nothing you can do about being butchered and eaten. But would you prefer that your rump is delicately brazened, covered in Redcurrant Jus and garnished with parsley, or just covered in breadcrumbs and fried?

Now … what if the Martian Butchers didn’t just grab you, but also someone else in the pen? Say: your mate Dave, who talked you into going to the pub in the first place? And the two of you overhear Zigburglbeeb and Wowbagger decide that you would be the main course at the Presidential Banquet, but Wanker Dave is only fit to become an Intergalactic Happy Meal?

Would it make no difference at all? Too busy bleating on about not eating sentient creatures, or perhaps vowing to turn vegetarian? Or would you feel just a teensy bit smug about it? The thought that you may – at last – get your moment of fame, on Universal Master Chef; as twin-headed food critic Grek-Wallass-J’al-Torrodox waxes lyrical about your texture and seasoning.

This serious philosophical discussion comes to you courtesy of my employer, and a rather lacklustre portion of Chicken Wings from Domino’s.

I invite serious debate amongst my learned colleagues in the comments section below.

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  1. AListener says:

    There you go. Proof positive that people don’t come here for the depth of the intellectual discussion…
    Don’t know what to think about this brain-teaser. I just can’t get past, “But I’d be dead…”

  2. Rick says:

    This is a hard call.
    On the one hand, you have the McMe which will be pounded into something resembling what we have been trained to accept as a burger, and sold to people who are only there because they are too pathetic to open the microwave door.
    Yet, on the other hand we have people paying over the odds for “chefs” cooking and serving up nothing special as if it was a gift from god, a person’s career will live and die based upon the careful placement of the sprig of parsley. I reckon half the clientelle are there because it is a place to be “seen”, as some sort of social status confirmation ritual. Frankly, it is so damned pretentious that I think I would prefer to be a McMe. At least with McFood there is no inherent bullshit other than whether or not the server is stingy with the fries. You don’t have “expectations”, and you can feed yourself pretty damn well for under twenty euros, which is less than the drinks (alcoholic or not) would cost in the other place…

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