A few weeks ago, I made a gluten-free cornbread. It was delicious. In the oven, though, it developed an oddly shaped carmelized film (which can be seen in the photo (I thought the pattern odd enough that I took the photo (which is one of the great things about digital cameras — you can take pictures of nonsense that, before, was not worth wasting film on))). Then, a couple of weeks later (that would be now), the Spanish Inquisitor puts up a neat (though disturbing) post about an ultrasound scan which, if you look at it through fundogelical lenses, apparently shows Jesus nailed to a cross in a woman’s womb (that’s gotta be symbolic of something). Which helped me remember my cornbread.
My first thought upon seeing the pattern (being a pattern-seeking primate and all) was that maybe this was a representation of the ylem during the first milliseconds of expansion after the Big Bang and I was being told by the universe that I AM RIGHT! It works for the right wing Christians, right?
Then I looked at it again. I saw the sign. It is Jason’s Golden Fleece. Apparently, I should be worshipping the Greek Gods of Olympus (only I own a Nikon). Oh Zeus, Oh Athena, Oh Loki (wait, wrong pantheon), Oh Woden (damnit, wrong pantheon again), forgive me for my postmodern atheism. And Zeus? You better keep away from my daughter whether you’re disguised as a swan or not!
After discussing it with my wife, we did the logical thing. We ate it. With butter and honey. It was delicious.
