When I was in grad school, we young philosophers-to-be took everything quite seriously, of course. Occupational hazard. Now what might not be widely known is that, of any and all departments in a university, the philosophy department KNOWS FOOD. And takes it seriously, indeed, more seriously than most other things. If you're marooned in a town, nothing known to eat, call the philosophy dept. in the local university, ask them where they take guests/themselves to eat. You won't be disappointed.
One very serious issue that used to come up (so to say) on about a sesqui-annual basis was: "Which is better, sex or food?" The discussion always played out the same way, even with an ever-changing jury: are we talking long run here? if so, then there's no question.
[Now remember, we're describing the behaviour of a gaggle of randy twenty-somethings here...]
Even at our age, sex didn't usually come (again, so to say) any 21 times a week. (Although, truth be told, I *did* know a high-energy physicist who knew these numbers...) Moreover, creative as we were, we couldn't think of sexual variations as diverse as those exhibited by, say, the culinary variational diversity of the then 130+ countries of the UN.
"Just do the numbers" was the instant response. And thus concluded the argument, as ever. Logic alone gave you the result: food was better than sex.
Now, of course, on can think of climactic moments (so to say) where this conclusion is befogged by emotion. But, in the long run, food is better than sex.
And that's a bigtime major reason I like food.
Geo
PS. And sex too, maze wee.
Sooo, you like wine and are looking for something good to read? Maybe
*this* will do the trick!
