Look Out! Cannibals!

September 22, 2016

 

Cannibalism. The idea is terrifying in its reality. Humans are walking meat sacks and if the urge strikes the wrong soul, or more likely, souls, then it’s best to skedaddle.

From a brief search of Google, I’m led to believe that certain tribespeople of the Papua New Guinean rainforests are the most common source of modern consumption of human flesh. Getting to them seems like effort and cost. And it’s not exactly the point of this little column.

Historically there’s heebie-jeebie ignorance put into play, there’s consumption to gain power and there’s consumption to preserve life. If there’s no other hope for food and starvation sets in, a Sam-chop or some ground Chuck might get the mouth salivating.

Not what I’m prodding at.

I do believe there are cannibals a bit closer than all that, people in the cities, people taking public transit, in situations far less dire.

There’s the Japanese fella who lobbed off his frank and beans to serve them a party of five that did not include Neve Campbell. There was the Aussie gal, sick of her marriage, chopped up her husband and fed him to the kids. There was the dude that defied space via an internet connection who located a willing walking, talking entrée. There’s the bath salt hangries and the when in Rome munchies situations, but these aren’t what I’m getting at.

Cannibals are closer, so close. In a sense.

Imagine the world, look out your window and see the trees, the grass, the supermarket with all the farm-bred feed for consumption. Now, imagine the clocks turned back and technology washed away.

Again. Look out your window and now imagine the last ice age. The greenery of the edible world is buried beneath a seemingly permafrost. Most animals are popsicles. Veggies are so far from sight you hardly recall their existence.

Your ancestors and mine, our collective gene pool, survived an ice age. Through the frost and lack of everything but cold, our species survived. And how?

Folks need fuel… folks are fuel. A friend in need is a friend that’s gonna die anyway, eventually.

According to the few sources I’ve consulted online folks once ate folks with an archeological equivalent to regularity (meaning how often, who knows). Meat from bones cleaved away. Flesh flayed. Juices drank.

Cannibals, they’re in you and they’re in me. So, should you be on the lookout, seek no further than the mirror. Survival of the fittest wasn’t always a reality show motto.

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Unnerving 
Powell River, British Columbia, Canada
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