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Friday, September 20, 2002

In the past if you wished for fish, you spent half the day getting it. Now it’s not only netted for you, it’s gutted, chopped, formed into a pleasing portion, coated with one of several dozen sauces or breadings, frozen, shipped across the continent to a location six blocks from your home, and offered in a variety of quantities that fit your particular needs.

And half it ends up on the floor, eaten by the Dog.

One of my mother's favorite stories about me is the reaction she used to get when the family went out to dinner when I was one or two. She would order two hot dogs for me. When the waitress stared questioningly, my mother would politely explain that one hot dog was to drop and the other was to eat.

That was in the mid fifties. Plus ça change .....
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