Cosmic relief

It’s a grey day for the food system, and I’ve got the blues. The World Health Organization has oozed its way around the carbohydrate industry with a fairly fluffy set of admonitions to the food industry not to sell candy to kids because it makes them fat. Naughty food industry, bad food industry.

I can already hear the snickers.

The UN system is not in my good books in any case, because of its appalling capitulation to the genetically modified food lobby. Exhibit A: Wednesday’s announcement by the Food and Agricultural Organization of its lightly caveated embrace of the technological quick fix. To top it all, Monsanto won suit against Percy Schmeiser, a Canadian farmer whose crops have been contaminated by Monsanto’s GM murk. It’s so dispiriting that I can’t even bring myself to recount my amusing Schmeiser anecdote. It’ll have to wait.

I’ve found some succour in A General Theory of Rubbish [Via Chris], which has won a place in the blogroll for its fine writing, for its sharing the Good News about The Voice of the Turtle ,and for introducing me to God.

The General Theory of Rubbish naturally reminded me of religion, and I headed to the Ship of Fools’ virtual church. I tried to get in to speak to someone, but there was no room at the inn. Luckily, there’s an anonymous option, where you can wander the church as a spectral presence, looking at icons, overhearing things, experiencing the sampled echo of a real church just like in the Pet Shop Boys’ It’s a Sin, but where you can never actually make any real changes to your environment. It’s uncannily like the real C of E.

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