Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Love Those Eggs!

I just can’t help it!

Although I’m not at all in favor of a salmonella pandemic and would support with whole heart the civil rights of all hens who suffer abuse because of overwork and undercare, there is something that strikes the perversity of my funny bone about the recent great egg recall. (You can read all about it in Sept 16 Boston Globe front page and beyond, including elaborate flow charts of farms, hens and eggs.)

In spite of my health gravitas I suddenly envision a lineup. All you hens line up over here for inspection. Keep the cackle down and abandon all modesty.

You women line up behind the hens, ova in hand.

This is the largest ever egg recall. Innocence is over. It seems to be a symbol of many current trends: the good food and health vigilance epidemic, ridding the market of impurities like farmers who cheat and the rise in the sale of eyeglasses that can read the small print of every and all ingredients and the smaller print of possible sides and dangers. Who can eat? Also, it’s evidence of the power of media to stir public panic by simply reporting the facts. (Of course they do select which facts to report and how to position the data.)

Spiritually? Well, I suppose it could be a sign of the tendency toward reactivity first, reflection second. Or, a sign of good public health care. At this rate Old Testament exaggerations about the longevity of patriarchal heroes may become possibility.

Most of all I think it’s better to choose laughter over panic. Laughter creates a pause. It prevents the temptation to confuse truth with rumor. Humor gives objectivity a chance. Humor me.

But be a good egg and check your daily egg consumer reports. You wouldn’t want to be a bad egg, let alone eat one.
* * * *

In other news, Massachusetts might just be going purple. How ecclesiastical. The Church rarely makes the news unless it becomes an occasion for sin, a stumbling block for all who enter in. Bishops can wear either red-purple or blue-purple. It’s not a political statement just a vanity one.

Most bishops choose the scarlet hues, leaning red, which then takes my errant mind to the scarlet letter and the numbers of women whose lives have been deeply scarred by abandonment from on high without provision—that’s not by Divinity but by male humanity in scarlet.

Male bishops carry on with business as usual just like Senators, Judges, Corporate Executives, Coaches, Principals and power pimps. Many eggs non-chicken are invaded against their will, and many women’s bellies swell without real love, unless of course the woman decides to give real love to the child of her womb. There’s precedent for that.

Love and respect eggs of all kinds.

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