Saturday, 13 August 2016

Eating Paper: Can You Cope?

Upon feeling hunger, they say the human being will eat is anything, like it is just a matter of time. Some people survived tragedies by drinking their own pee and eating their own poo. Several cases exist in which the fellow who refused to do it died. Australia had a woman eating flower on TV recently, like the decoration or something, but flowers are now in salads for long, so that that is not a biggie anymore. We also know of at least one famous airplane crash where the survivors were those who did not refuse to feed from the corpse of the others. In the slums, in Brazil, it is not missing kids who grew up eating rats, like that sort of animal is not missing around there, and at least they get to eat meat or something. The scoff of the oppressors over everyone else is so huge, however, that Rede Globo (the same one that seems to sponsor all attacks I suffer in Australia since at most 2005, since, first of all, they refuse to publish about them) suggested that the poor could use nails to make soups that contained iron, so that their kids would not be short of it.

What would we say about the people who have a choice and decide for eating things such as paper in our world and time?

Marilda Ziglia, a cousin of mine from Porto Alegre, where I was born, daughter of Aunt Ilda, who was the aunt I most liked before coming to Australia, is ten+ years my senior, fellow of Lea Ricci Pinheiro and Obama, generation-wise. Once I was staying at her mother's place with her, like me and her on our own. That was when she showed me how to eat toilet paper, like believe it or not. 

Marilda was really creepy her entire life: At a certain stage she had a skeleton that used to put a hand out to get coins when we put the coins in front of it. 

That was still an activity, which, according to her, she used to do with Cristina, her best mate, like after I refused to join her in the banquet, despite being so much younger, she came up with that: Cristina does it or something. That they used to spend quite a few minutes doing that. 

Oh, well, I think that it was Marilda's plague then. I recently kept on thinking of her and how easy it would be for her to save me from all the atrocities I endure, like she could send her son to TV with the banner or something. I then recalled how creepy she was, and I recalled this story with the toilet paper in particular. Her mum gave her enough food and she was even a bit overweight, so that it was a shocking thing. 

Some men eat the poo of women and call that sex. I have seen them even on TV doing that, like live. If they do not get locked in for that one, I think she is OK to be amongst us, is it not? I am thinking, like, if we consider just this one. 

Oh, well, but she is not so OK since I started suffering these atrocities: She is not saving me and she can do that. 

The point of this post was however that I recently got Coles, one in two supermarkets that we have in Australia, like, quite sincerely, they may say whatever, but there are only two, Coles and Woolworths, swapping some item from my online order, as it is unfortunately, very unfortunately, their habit, like as if I don't know what I want. I did notice that when they swap they usually put a more expensive item, such as this one. Problem is what I got this time: The thing looked like a cake, first of all, but it was supposed to be bread. The packaging makes you think it is a cake. Then there is the smell: It also smells like cake. It would be OK if I had ordered cake and if I liked cake, but I actually almost hate cake, as for daily life, and I ordered bread, sandwich, hardcore bread: Pure natural blessing. I ordered the great black king, Rye, and another one, also black, perhaps wholemeal, and they replaced my blessing with gluten-free WHITE bread that looks and smells like cake. As if it did not suffice, after I eat the thing, and the taste is not so heinous if you toast it, it did give me the sensation of having paper inside of my mouth and stomach. What was not my surprise: I looked at the Helga's package and it did say CELLULOSE. Gosh! I now pay to be poisoned. 

I don't know, but in the past we used to think that paper and chlorophyll are things we cannot digest. If we cannot digest, we will be wasting our organic resources, but we may also be poisoning our system, like I don't know, perhaps it remains inside or causes us digestive trouble. I had to lie down and remain like that for the effects to pass when I had six slices. The mouth and the stomach feel pretty bad and it seems to be fermenting inside of us. I suppose Marilda is there, not even one health problem that I know of. Notwithstanding, her son was born without the lid of the head or something like that.  I think that one died because of that. The doctor, back then, blamed the dogs for all. Well, the ugly beauty is called Hydroxypropyl Methyl Cellulose, and it receives the number 464 in the chemical list. I used Google and quickly found Web, which says that it is an additive with no known adverse effects. My mouth is still dry and my stomach is still revolted. It seems to take about four hours to digest. Only this is already trouble, I reckon. People who eat gluten-free food are after healthier eating and this does not sound any healthier to me. Methyl is something I have already seen associated with alcohol, I reckon. Hydroxy whatever sounds like an acid. Dictionary says it is used to produce tears and to disintegrate stuff, on top of being used as a thickener and a binder. I may be wrong, but you are probably going to find some connection between this and Potassium Bromate, which was forbidden in Brazil. In the period of my martyrdom I found Maltitol and Lactitol, for instance, being used in Australian food items. I don't know, but people might want to kill Australians because they destroyed me, because they are destroying me or because they are responsible for all these disgraces all over the world all these years. Any chance? 

When I was in Marrickville, Sydney, NSW, they had just had the nuclear incident in Footscray and the Asian supermarket, which was the biggest in the place, was selling bananas produced in Footscray for a really cheap price. I almost consumed those. Even though they had those huge nuclear incidents in Japan, Australia seems not to acknowledge that and sells their fish in our supermarket. In Brazil, that would all be forbidden. There should be a limit for you not to care about what you do against your own people, your own Country, but, all these years suffering atrocities nobody can imagine I could suffer here, in First World, and the conclusion is always the same: They really don't care. 




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