"By your own logic...", the accomplice took leave

Tuesday, the 7th of June

Television. People over a certain age thought it had stopped. They remembered it as a distinct characteristic of an earlier time, a time when people were still open to the idea that everything was being reduced, and indeed, could be reduced. This was years ago.
But its uses and the urge to represent forged a panoply of mediums, variously as popular as tv.
And there still was tv. Sound, movement and colour. The simplicity of its information, so suited to the anthropological predilection for recognition, delivered a visceral comfort and those who chose could always make it available.

It was lifestyle. A lot of lifestyle was going around though. All of them different, and in different lots, but generally around, no changes there.
One thing was different now. Something from before had stopped.
The overfed old, white men, podging obtuseness as they touched the young, other people's children, dropping words like education, poverty, opportunity.
The images of scrub and anthill and the non-transmission of the dust and the smells.
The silent young and the incredible import instructing and canvassing, canvassing.

A pandemic susceptibility, noted here, in some observations on a condition, known as "rice butt" that afflicts the local population.
Despite its negligible taste and consistency, it is cooked over and over again in the course of millions of lifetimes, and people choose to have a rice dish. I reckon rice has an addictive component.
I don't believe that the body is equipped to process rice, not in these quantities anyway, and while they are being saturated with rice, there is a toll exacted on human bodies by deficiencies in nutrients and valuable minerals.
And by the age of 30, the ablebodied adult population (which is what 30 years old is here - the pinnacle and pivot upon which to hinge and swing the sum-total of understanding in the net of society) are built like tanks.
With every mouthful of excess rice consumption they wage a war on their genetics and physiognomy. In the lifelong process this takes, bone and flesh are inexorably compounded and eventually they look like a sack - smooth-skinned bundles of compromise, mounds of pointless muscle. Boys of 16 to 28 have rice breasts, rice pecs. Girls have puffy forearms and glutinous legs. Like jelly in gladwrap. Everyone has inflated fingers. The skinny ones do not eat.